Strangers When We Meet
by riftintime
Summary: Ianto Jones is sent to work at the Cardiff branch of Torchwood, run by the enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness. They form a tumultuous bond but when Jack suddenly leaves, Ianto makes a devastating decision that may destroy their chance of happiness together.
1. Chapter 1

**"Strangers When We Meet" by riftintime**

**Summary: **Ianto Jones is sent to work at the Cardiff branch of Torchwood, run by the enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness. They form a tumultuous bond but when Jack suddenly leaves, Ianto makes a devastating decision that may destroy their chance of happiness together. Jack/Ianto AU.

**Pairing: **Jack/Ianto

**Rating: **NC-17/Adult

**Genre: **Sci-Fi/Romance

**Warnings: **Explicit sexual situations and adult themes, occasional coarse language, violence, angst.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters created and owned by the BBC. No profit is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes: **This is an alternate universe story, using the Torchwood characters and world. I'm planning to draw on some episodes from series one and two of the show, but mixing them up along with the timeline to suit the characters and story. I don't plan to use anything from series three onwards, or any of the novels, audio books, or radio plays. I've also taken liberties with certain facts. For example, Ianto is one year older here than in canon, having been born in 1982 rather than 1983.

Well, I'm back with something that's again a bit different to my previous efforts, but hopefully it will still be enjoyable. I'm not sure how long the story will end up being, probably at least 30 chapters and 90K words. I plan to post a new chapter at least once a week.

Please review if you're able to and let me know what you think. I greatly appreciate all feedback, and I do my best to reply to all reviews. Thanks for reading!

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**Chapter One**

_**September 21st, 2008**_

Ianto Jones stood still and silent on the balcony of his newly acquired London apartment, his face tilted upwards as he gazed into the night-time sky above. A dense blanket of cloud cover partially obscured the stars, softening their reflection in the murky, black waters of the River Thames in the distance below. Suppressing a shiver from the chilled evening breeze, Ianto wrapped his arms tightly around his body and exhaled a shuddering breath, barely noticing the condensation of the warm air before it rapidly dispersed.

Ianto had never really taken the time to gaze up at the stars until recently, but for the last six months his entire existence had been reduced to this... staring endlessly upwards as he waited, struggling to keep the hope in his heart alive. Every evening he'd stood for hours on the rooftop of the Millennium Centre in distant Cardiff, staring up into the infinite darkness of space, his every thought consumed by one extraordinary and impossible man. The man Ianto loved more than he'd ever thought possible was out there somewhere. For six long months, he'd waited stoically for his best friend and lover to return, even though the man had abandoned his home and the people he'd claimed to care about without so much as a hastily scrawled message or a backwards glance.

Tonight, however, was different. With the tiny, fragile flame of hope he'd been trying to sustain finally extinguished, Ianto was ready to put an end to his torment once and for all.

Ianto had tried to hate him for leaving, he'd tried to harden his heart and channel his anguish into white hot rage, but he'd failed miserably. Ianto couldn't blame him for leaving this small, primitive planet behind, not when the wonders of the universe – all of time and space – were once again within his grasp. Twenty-first century Earth and its narrow-minded, insular people must have seemed pitiable and insignificant to a man who had once roamed the galaxies, witnessing people and places Ianto couldn't begin to imagine. Ianto couldn't blame him for wanting that back, no matter how deeply it hurt to be left behind.

Ianto hoped that, wherever he was, the man he loved was happy. He'd spent a great deal of time trying to analyse and understand the depth of his feelings, attempting to separate and categorise the more superficial elements of attraction and lust from the other more powerful, nebulous emotions. In the end, he'd supposed it didn't really matter. Love was love, and it defied explanation. He wondered if this was the true measure of love, if real love was selflessly wanting the other person to be happy, no matter how great the cost to oneself.

Ianto wasn't entirely a fool. Almost from the beginning, he'd suspected that a painful end was inevitable... he'd known it could probably never last. He knew he should be grateful for the time they'd had together. From the little he knew, it was more than many of his predecessors had been granted. But his greedy, unwise heart had wanted more. He'd wanted to believe that he was different, that he could somehow be enough. He'd tried to find solace in the knowledge that it wasn't just him... that there was no one in the world, perhaps no one in the entire universe, who could truly give such a singularly unique man what he needed. But Ianto had wanted to be that one special person. He'd wanted it more desperately than he'd wanted anything in his entire life.

Even now, he would have done almost anything for one more fleeting moment... one more affectionate smile... one more gentle caress of strong, tender fingers against his face... one more brush of soft, warm lips against his own... one more chance to be embraced and surrounded by that wonderfully reassuring comfort and warmth.

More than anything else, he wished he'd at least had the chance to say goodbye.

Drawing a deep, trembling breath, Ianto blinked several times, not bothering to wipe at the tears as they trailed down his face. It was the first time he'd shed tears since the day of his twenty-sixth birthday, a little less than a month earlier. He'd spent the day alone, hiding himself from the world as he wallowed in the depths of self-pity, a bottle of whisky his only companionship.

As the days, weeks, and months had slowly passed, and as his hope began to fade, he'd thought that with enough time, he'd be able to close this chapter of his life and move forward. But with each passing day, the ache in his heart grew deeper, while the loneliness became more profound and overwhelming. He felt broken and empty inside, and he'd gradually arrived at the realisation that there was only one solution. He couldn't endure a lifetime of searching every crowd for a tall, dashing figure accompanied by the tell-tale swirl of a grey military greatcoat. He couldn't spend the rest of his life searching for the one person who could make him feel whole again, knowing that even if he did settle for someone else, he'd give them up in a heartbeat for a chance of recapturing a fraction of what he'd once had.

Ianto no longer slept, insomnia having become his constant companion. He felt beyond exhaustion, every movement seeming to require monumental effort. The image he saw in the mirror every morning was of dull, lifeless blue eyes, framed by heavy, dark smudges, his gaunt features complimented by the unhealthy pallor of already-pale Welsh skin. Not that long ago, he'd taken great pride in his grooming and appearance, evidenced by the almost obscene amount of money he'd spent on his clothing, especially his bespoke tailored suits and their accompanying shirts, ties, and accessories. None of that mattered anymore. He'd kept only his one favourite suit, the suit he'd worn on their first proper date. He'd given the rest to charity.

When he did occasionally manage to drift into a restless slumber, his dreams were haunted by a ridiculously handsome face with deep blue, soul-searching eyes... eyes that were far older than the impossibly youthful face surrounding them. Those eyes had always seemed to know him better than he knew himself. A dazzling, infectious smile taunted his thoughts... a smile that when focused solely upon him, had unfailingly brought a flush of warmth to his face and made him a little weak in the knees, much to his mortification. Lack of sleep and an indifference to food had taken Ianto's body to what felt like the brink of collapse. In a futile act of self-preservation, his mind had apparently decided to refuse his body the rest it so desperately needed.

Ianto's thoughts shifted as he continued to stare up at the stars. The guilt of leaving his teammates behind continued to gnaw at his gut like a stomach full of rats. He'd abandoned them, at a time when they'd needed each other more than ever. It had been his job to take charge and look after them. They'd needed him, but when he'd realised his lack of focus was endangering not only himself but them as well, he'd known what he had to do. After several close calls and a near-fatal encounter with a rogue Weevil, he'd decided he wasn't going to stay and wait for his luck to run out. Working for Torchwood was a death sentence, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice his life for a job that had lost its meaning. There wasn't any part of the underground base in Cardiff that wasn't filled with memories... painful memories that were a constant reminder of what he'd lost. He'd needed to escape.

He hadn't been able to forget Gwen's anger and confusion, Owen's feigned indifference, or Toshiko's sad understanding. He'd tried to assuage his guilt by reminding himself that they were better off without him, that he'd become a liability to them. His final task before leaving had been to scour the UNIT personnel files and compile a list of the best potential candidates for the Torchwood team. He knew they'd be fine without him, but he missed all of them. He missed his beloved Myfanwy too. They'd been his friends, and the nearest thing he'd had to a real family.

With a final longing glance to the heavens, Ianto retreated to the comparative warmth of the apartment's interior, closing the glass balcony doors firmly behind him. Removing his coat and hanging it neatly on the rack by the front door, he rubbed at his frozen hands, then made his way into the compact kitchen and poured a glass of water from the tap. Moving back to the living area, he lowered himself wearily onto the sofa.

The new apartment was smaller, but similarly styled and appointed to the one he'd had in Cardiff. As soon as he'd seen the similarities, he'd immediately decided it would be his new home. The contemporary look with its sleek lines and shiny surfaces wasn't really his taste, his preferences leaned towards something more traditional, but it felt comfortable and familiar. It was a reminder of the happiest moments of his life.

He still wasn't sure why he'd decided to return to London. He could have gone anywhere, but other than Cardiff and his home town of Newport, the vast, intimidating capital city was the only other place he'd ever known, albeit briefly. No one knew him here, all the people he'd once known and worked with were dead, and the anonymity suited his needs. It seemed like as good a place as any to start over. It would be easy to lose himself here, not that he expected anyone would be looking for him. He'd said his final goodbyes before leaving Cardiff.

Scanning his eyes over the contents of the glass-topped coffee table before him, Ianto ran through his mental check-list once more, already knowing there was nothing he'd overlooked. As always, his fastidious attention to detail had served him well. He nudged the thick blue folder of paperwork and documentation with his fingertip, lining it up with the edge of the rectangular table, and then straightened the envelope on top. The words "Read this first" stood out starkly on the crisp white paper in his tidy handwriting.

Sitting next to the folder was a new, unused leather-bound diary. He'd never found his old diary, it too had vanished six months earlier. It had been one of his most prized possessions, and when his desperate search of every inch of Torchwood Three's enormous lair had failed to locate it, the additional loss had been almost more than he could bear. He'd concluded that his diary was also lost to him forever, and that, in a somewhat uncharacteristic act of sentimentality, the man he'd been waiting for had taken it with him.

Ianto drew a deep breath, and his eyes settled on the innocuous white tablets he'd laid out in a neat little row in the centre of the table. There were five tablets, one for each year. Compound B67, colloquially known as 'retcon', was one of the crowning achievements of the once-great Torchwood Institute. Ianto had always despised the drug, believing its use to be morally reprehensible. However, he was pragmatic enough to accept that it was a useful tool in his former line of work – a necessary evil. If Torchwood had taught him nothing else, it was of the necessity to always focus on the greater good, and that sometimes meant doing despicable things with ruthless detachment. He supposed there was some sort of perverse irony in his hope that those little white tablets were going to be his salvation.

Without further thought, and before his resolve could waver, Ianto scooped up the tablets in his palm, tossing them quickly into his mouth. A vile, bitter taste immediately assaulted his tongue. Taking a mouthful of water, he swallowed hard, and then eased himself down to lay along the length of the sofa, adjusting a cushion to support his head.

Breathing slowly and deeply, Ianto willed himself to relax. For a moment, he felt strangely at peace. He'd made his choice, there was no going back now, and he knew from experience that the compound worked rapidly. His limbs soon became heavy and lethargic as the sedative took effect. He could feel his mind blurring at the edges, and a sudden wave of panic surged through him. He desperately tried to move, but it was already too late. His body refused to respond.

His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to hold onto the last vestiges of consciousness, his surroundings becoming shadowy and indistinct as they lost focus. _I'm sorry_, he thought. _I don't want to forget, but I need to... I can't go on like this... I need to let you go..._

Moments before he finally succumbed to the darkness, a single name echoed in his mind, before drifting forever beyond his reach.

_Jack..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Thanks very much to everyone who kindly reviewed the first chapter, added alerts, and to everyone else who gave it a go. A special thank you to Prothrombintime for brilliant support, feedback and encouragement. On with the story...

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**Chapter Two**

_**October 13th, 2003  
(Five years earlier)**_

Ianto stood on the timber-decked boardwalk of Mermaid Quay and studied the small, unremarkable building in front of him. It appeared to be little more than a derelict wooden shack, tucked into the end of the pier, and incongruous in the modern surroundings of Cardiff Bay's numerous restaurants, pubs, and shops.

His research indicated that the building had once served as a tourist information office, but that pretence had obviously been abandoned years earlier. Now, it seemed to be the only tiny patch of the highly developed area that had been ignored and forgotten. However, Ianto knew appearances could be deceptive and that the modest facade acted merely as an entrance to something far more substantial, its existence known only to a handful of people.

He drew in a steadying breath of the crisp sea air and straightened his tie, trailing his fingers down the length of smooth, silk fabric before tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. He felt conspicuous dressed in his best suit – classically styled, charcoal grey with a subtle white pinstripe – which he'd accompanied with a crisp white shirt and a conservative dark blue tie with a silver diagonal stripe. However, anything less would have been unprofessional, and this had been his daily work attire at Torchwood London. He'd quickly grown accustomed to high quality clothing since he'd begun working full-time and had the means to afford it. He wasn't about to compromise his standards just because his work environment had changed. Besides, he liked how he looked and carried himself in a well-cut suit. He felt more confident and in control.

Looking down at his watch, he noted the time was five minutes before eight. He'd spent a little more time than usual on his morning routine, wanting to make the best possible first impression. Ianto's fastidiousness was sometimes in conflict with his firm belief in punctuality. What others would undoubtedly call obsessive, he liked to think was simply a meticulous nature and an appreciative eye for detail. He was relieved that he'd arrived with time to spare, and fortunately, the quaint bed and breakfast he'd taken up temporary residence at was only ten minutes away by foot. Having decided to leave his car behind, he'd risked braving Cardiff's unpredictable weather in order to allow himself some additional time to gather his thoughts.

His orders had been concise, yet frustratingly vague. His assignment didn't sit well with him, but when the director of Torchwood One gave an order, she expected it to be carried out without question or debate. Ianto had heard rumours about what happened to those who managed to incite Yvonne Hartman's wrath. While he'd always treated office gossip with a healthy degree of contempt, in this particular case he found it easy to believe the voracity of the rumours. Hartman was fiercely patriotic to the point of uncompromising ruthlessness, and from what Ianto had heard, she seemed to have few qualms about performing merciless acts in the name of queen and country.

Ianto believed in the Torchwood Institute's mandate to secretly protect the British Empire from extraterrestrial threats, but he wasn't sure if its leader was the best person for the job. Although he appreciated that a degree of hardheartedness might be necessary at times, he couldn't help but worry that Hartman's self-righteous arrogance might one day prove to be the organisation's undoing. He hoped he was wrong.

He'd been entirely dismayed about his sudden reassignment. After finally managing to escape the stifling confines of Cardiff and nearby Newport, he'd only just begun a new life for himself in London. Recruited by Torchwood while completing his degree at Cardiff University, along with his former girlfriend Lisa Hallett, it had been the opportunity to create a better life for himself, finally leaving the shackles of his poor, working-class background firmly behind. Hartman had been unconvincingly apologetic about the sudden upheaval to his life, but she'd offered up a substantial pay-rise and generous relocation allowance as recompense. While Ianto was pleased that the extra money meant a new bespoke suit or two were in his future, it still seemed like a lousy deal. However, he hadn't had a choice, and he suspected that Yvonne Hartman was the sort of person who regularly used money to make problems go away, assuage any flickerings of guilt, or to just smooth over issues in her day-to-day life.

Ianto glanced up nervously. He'd spotted the CCTV camera just barely visible in the corner of the building's frontage as soon as he'd approached. He'd also taken note of the string of cameras as he'd gotten closer to his destination, and he knew his every movement was likely being observed.

Uncertain of the appropriate protocol, but unable to put off the inevitable any longer, Ianto stepped forward and knocked firmly on the wooden door. It was far more solid than its ramshackle appearance had led him to believe. After waiting several moments and receiving no response, he tentatively opened the unlocked door, and moved cautiously over the threshold.

The interior was dimly lit and shabby, and entirely in keeping with the dilapidated exterior. Allowing the door to close behind him with a solid thud, Ianto found himself staring across the small room at his new boss.

The tall, solidly built man was leaning back against a long counter, his arms crossed defensively over his broad chest. His attire was strangely anachronistic, appearing to be a style dating back several decades at least, perhaps as far back as the 1940's, and accentuated by a grey military greatcoat that gave him an authoritative, imposing appearance. The man was glaring at Ianto with narrowed eyes, his features set in a hard, unwelcoming expression.

Ianto had seen the mysterious leader of Torchwood Three previously, but only in photographs, and once at a distant glance when the man had been visiting Torchwood London two months earlier. Ianto was once again struck by the man's almost impossible good looks. Smooth, chiselled features were accompanied by piercing blue eyes and a stylish mop of thick, dark brown hair, a shade or two lighter than Ianto's short, neatly groomed locks.

Captain Jack Harkness had the enviable good looks of a model or film star. Even for a strictly heterosexual man like Ianto, Captain Harkness was undeniably striking. At a glance, the Captain appeared to be in his late thirties, but Ianto knew that wasn't necessarily correct, although he didn't believe the many outrageous rumours he'd heard about the man's apparent longevity. He'd literally laughed out loud when several of his colleagues had postulated that the enigmatic Captain was a vampire. Ianto had dryly responded with the suggestion that they should stock up on garlic tablets, just in case.

Clearing his throat, Ianto took a step forward, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the other man. "Good morning, sir." He tentatively reached his hand forward in greeting. "Ianto Jones."

There was a heavy silence as the Captain continued to stare at him. Ianto only barely managed not to squirm under the intensity of the icy gaze. Just as he was about to return his arm to his side, the other man reached out and clasped his hand, giving it a quick but firm shake. "Captain Jack Harkness," he offered unnecessarily, revealing a distinctive American accent.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Ianto said politely as the other man continued to scrutinise him with unnerving intensity.

"Ianto Jones, born August nineteenth, 1982," the Captain began in a detached tone a moment later. He paused and looked at Ianto challengingly, a hint of a smirk ghosting briefly over his lips. "Welsh. Grew up in a council housing estate in Newport. Younger of two children. Parents deceased. Gifted student. One minor conviction for shoplifting four years ago. Number of temporary jobs while studying history and literature at Cardiff University. Recruited by the London branch of the Torchwood Institute six months ago. Junior researcher. Ex-girlfriend Lisa Hallett, also recruited by Torchwood." He paused again. "Shall I go on?"

Ianto shook his head. He wasn't surprised that the Captain had checked up on him. "No need," he replied and attempted to offer up a genial smile, determined not to let the older man intimate him. "I see you've done your homework, sir. As I'm sure you know, Ms. Hartman sent me to–"

The Captain suddenly stepped forward, placing himself firmly in Ianto's personal space, and causing Ianto to stop mid-sentence. Harkness glared at him, their faces so close that Ianto could feel the other man's warm breath against his skin. He couldn't help but notice the distinctive scent of the other man's aftershave. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before. "Hartman sent you to spy on me," Harkness said, accusation evident in his voice.

Despite Ianto's six-foot height being an equal match for the Captain's, he felt dwarfed by the other man's build and stature. He held his ground and schooled his features in an impassive expression. "I was sent here to work for you, sir," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady, and hoping his anxiety wasn't obvious.

The other man simply continued to stare at him defiantly. Ianto sighed and lowered his eyes. It was pointless to deny the reason for his presence, and he didn't want to begin their association by insulting the Captain's intelligence. "And to spy on you," he admitted, lifting his eyes to meet the other man's gaze again and squaring his shoulders.

Whatever the Captain had been expecting him to say, it obviously hadn't been that. Ianto allowed himself a moment of satisfaction from the look of genuine surprise that passed rapidly over the man's features.

Harkness then stepped back and moved around the counter. He reached down and a section of the wall to Ianto's right slid away, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

"Well, I suppose I'd better show you around. Come on." Harkness walked over to the previously concealed doorway, not waiting for Ianto's response. Just before he was about to disappear into the passageway, he looked back over his shoulder at Ianto, his eyes roaming over the length of Ianto's body with a complete lack of subtlety. "By the way, nice suit."

Ianto stared at the retreating form of the other man for a long moment, wondering what in the hell he'd gotten himself into. Shaking his head, he followed meekly in the Captain's wake.

###

An hour and a half later, Ianto stood in the middle of the large chamber that was the centre of the vast network of rooms forming Torchwood Three's archives, beginning one level down from the main work area of the underground base.

He looked around in complete despair and thought he might actually be about to cry. Every surface and shelf, along with a substantial amount of the stone floor, was littered with woefully disorganised files accompanied by the debris that had fallen through the spatial rift which ran through Cardiff. The Rift regularly spat out the 'flotsam and jetsam' of the universe, as the Captain had called it, amongst over things, many of which Ianto knew were not quite so benign. It would take him months, maybe even years, to catalogue and organise everything. Even the belligerent Captain had found the grace to look at him sheepishly and then make a hasty retreat upstairs.

After his impromptu tour, Ianto had quickly decided that Torchwood Three's underground base, known somewhat pretentiously as 'The Hub', could best be described as a rubbish tip, and that was only if he was feeling especially charitable, which at that moment in time he most definitely wasn't.

Admittedly, the expansive main level was impressive with its eclectic mix of nineteenth century architecture and modern technology. The open space was dominated by a water tower spearing up through the space, bisecting the ceiling and reaching up into the sky on Roald Dahl Plass above. He even found the low-level hum of equipment and the continuous sound of moving water surprisingly soothing. However, the place was filthy and littered with pizza boxes, empty takeaway food containers, disposable coffee cups, and various other day-to-day detritus.

The entire dank lair offended his sensibilities and made him itch to start cleaning, although he wasn't sure where to even begin. He thought with longing of the sterile, immaculate environment of the towering Torchwood London offices. While the Hub undoubtedly had character, it was also, to put it bluntly, a shit-hole. In hindsight, Ianto realised he probably shouldn't have said as such to the Captain during their tour. The Captain had seemed offended that Ianto wasn't sufficiently awestruck, but it wasn't Ianto's fault that Jack Harkness had apparently never fully grasped the concept of a rubbish bin.

Sighing deeply, Ianto extracted his notepad and pen from his jacket pocket, and began making a list of the supplies he'd need to assist him in bringing some semblance of order to the surrounding chaos. He'd send a requisition to Torchwood London for some of the more major items like storage boxes, a high-resolution document scanner, and a digital camera – Ms. Hartman had told him to contact her assistant about anything he might require – and he could purchase office and cleaning supplies locally. He made a mental note to ask the Captain about getting some petty cash for necessities.

After an hour of making notes, exploring the various rooms, and sifting through some of numerous artifacts and files, Ianto decided he was in dire need of sustenance.

Making his way back upstairs, he spotted the Captain sitting in his office, looking decidedly sulky. Their eyes met for a moment through the open glass-panelled doors separating the office from the rest of the main work area, then the other man turned away to look at the computer screen at the side of his desk.

Observing the enigmatic man for a few more moments, Ianto couldn't help but think how lonely it must be for him, working alone in the huge underground base, with no one to talk to or share the burden of safeguarding Cardiff.

Ianto didn't know the full story, but he'd read the chilling account of Torchwood Three's previous leader, a man by the name of Alex Hopkins, who had murdered the entire Cardiff team on New Year's Eve of 1999, with the exception of Captain Harkness. The Captain had assumed leadership and apparently been left to his own devices ever since. Ianto wasn't sure why Yvonne Hartman was taking an interest in the Cardiff branch after all this time, or why Captain Harkness was allowing it, given that he'd been operating more or less independently of the London branch for several years. He suspected that politics were at play, of which he had no interest. It was quite possible the Captain had some well-connected allies, and therefore wielded some power over Hartman, thus insuring Torchwood Three's relative autonomy.

At Torchwood London, Ianto had been just one low-level employee in a sea of over eight hundred workers. Making a name for himself and advancing up through the ranks would have been painstakingly slow at best. Here in Cardiff though, it might just be possible that he could actually make a difference. He could make himself useful, become indispensable to the Captain, and still carry out Hartman's orders.

Captain Harkness clearly needed help with running the Cardiff branch, even if he'd never admit it. Ianto could do that. He could become whatever the Captain needed.

Feeling a spark of optimism for the first time since his arrival, Ianto walked purposefully across the heavy metal grating, passing by the battered sofa he'd seen earlier, and entered the kitchen area tucked into a corner of the cavernous space. In all fairness, he couldn't blame the Captain for his inhospitable attitude. After all, Ianto was an unwelcome interloper in his domain, having been sent to observe and report on the man's activities. Ianto knew he had his work cut out for him if he had any hope of building a cordial working relationship between them.

Fortunately, Ianto liked a challenge, and smiling softly to himself as he reached into his jacket pocket, he also had a secret weapon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who have so generously reviewed and added alerts so far. And special thanks to Prothrombintime for fantastic feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_**October 13th, 2003 (continued)**_

"Coffee, sir?"

Ianto stood at the doorway of the Captain's office and waited for permission to enter. He held two steaming mugs of his favourite, finest coffee blend, a blue and white stripped mug for the older man, and a plain white one for himself.

He glanced around the office with interest, noting the strange and cluttered assortment of furniture and technology scattered almost haphazardly around the area. Jack's large, curved, wooden desk dominated the space and its central position provided the Captain with a view directly out through the glass doors, over the work area platform and beyond. Another room was visible through a second sets of doors to the right, just beyond Jack's desk, and in the far left corner was a set of stairs leading downwards, which Ianto assumed provided another means of access to the Hub's lower levels. A sealed circular hatch in the floor between Jack's desk and the stairs caught his attention, and he wondered what was beneath. The maze like geography of platforms, balconies, walkways, stairs, and assorted rooms in the Hub's main level alone was enough to confuse even the most astute of minds, but he was quickly familiarising himself with the basic overall layout.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he could find a purpose for himself at Torchwood Three. At Torchwood London, he'd been insignificant and expendable, but here in Cardiff he could be useful. He was a hard worker, and while he was young and inexperienced, he was also determined. He just needed Captain Harkness to give him a chance.

Jack turned towards him, a surprised look on his face. He nodded and Ianto stepped forward, carefully depositing the stripped mug on the desk, beside the Captain's elbow. He gestured with his now free hand at the empty chair opposite the desk. "May I?"

Jack nodded again, more tersely this time, a slight frown wrinkling his brow.

Ianto smiled at him gratefully and settled himself into the chair. Raising his mug to his lips, he breathed in the aromatic smell appreciatively before taking a sip and savouring the intense, rich flavour. "Mmm. Fresh and strong," he murmured, letting out a soft contented sigh.

Looking up, he found Jack staring at him with a strange, puzzled expression. Ianto nodded towards the other man's mug and watched as he finally picked it up and took a tentative sip.

"Wow!" Jack said a moment later, his eyes growing wide before he greedily took another sip.

Ianto couldn't quite hide a smirk from pulling at the corners of his mouth. "It's my secret weapon. Guess you didn't find out about that when you checked up on me?"

"Guess not," Jack replied, and Ianto was surprised to see a glimmer of amusement in the other man's features for the first time. "I've tried to use that damn coffee machine, but the stupid thing hates me."

Ianto smiled knowingly. He'd had to give the machine a thorough cleaning, but once that was done, it had performed admirably. Coffee making was his speciality, he enjoyed the process and precision required to create the perfect blend. The routine calmed his mind, allowing him to focus his thoughts on a task with which he had absolute control over the outcome.

Returning his attention to his drink, he continued to surreptitiously observe the other man. He was amused when Jack let out an almost obscene moan after taking another mouthful.

"May I speak frankly, sir?" Ianto asked a few moments later, steeling himself and deciding to take the initiative.

"Go ahead," Jack replied, looking at him with what appeared to be a mixture of suspicion and curiously.

Ianto drew in a deep breath. "Look, I didn't choose this assignment. I didn't ask for it. I was happy with my life in London." He paused for a moment. That statement wasn't entirely truthful, but it was close enough. At the least, he'd certainly had no intention of returning to Cardiff. "I probably want to be here even less than you want me to be."

Jack shrugged, looking nonchalant. "Then go back to London. I won't stop you."

"I can't," Ianto said plaintively. "We both know that. Besides, if I go back, they'll just send someone else in my place."

Jack continued to look unperturbed. "Well, that wouldn't be your problem, would it?"

"It might be a problem for both of us," Ianto retorted.

He searched the other man's features, trying to get some indication of what he might be thinking. Ianto was usually quite adept at observing and reading other people, but the Captain was proving to be frustratingly inscrutable.

Ianto wondered if he'd perhaps made a bad first impression, despite his best efforts. "Perhaps you'd prefer someone else?" he asked cautiously.

Jack didn't immediately respond. Then he slumped forward, letting out a deep sigh. "Ianto, look, you seem like a good kid–"

Ianto narrowed his eyes, glaring at the older man. "Please don't patronise me, Captain," he said coldly, cutting him off.

Jack put down his coffee mug and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay. I didn't mean to be condescending. You just seem so young to me. And that's how it should be. You're only twenty-one... you've got your whole life ahead of you." He paused and a look of intense sadness passed over his handsome features. "I've seen Torchwood destroy so many lives, Ianto... lives of good, innocent people like you. So here's some advice, and I suggest that you seriously consider taking it. It's very simple. Get out of Torchwood while you still can."

"No," Ianto said determinedly, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving. If you force me to go, I'll return to London, but I'm not leaving Torchwood." He looked at the other man curiously. "If Torchwood is so terrible, why are you here?"

"I have my reasons," Jack replied vaguely. "I believe in Torchwood's mandate, I just don't trust the people in charge... people like Yvonne Hartman. I don't trust their methods or their motives."

That at least was something they could agree on, Ianto thought. "Then I'm better off here with you. Give me a chance. I can help you. Archives, paperwork, building maintenance, food and drink... dry cleaning even." He glanced over to his left where Jack's greatcoat was hanging from a wooden coat stand near the wall behind the desk. "That coat of yours must take a battering."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I don't need your help."

"Excuse me, look at the state of this place." Ianto gestured at Jack's coat. "And is that dried egg on your collar?"

Jack shrugged again. "It was a busy week."

"I want to stay," Ianto said, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice.

He didn't relish the thought of having to report back to Torchwood One and admit that he'd completely failed in carrying out his orders. He certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of Yvonne Hartman's ire.

"Look, I'll make you a deal," he continued. "Ms. Hartman wants me to send back a weekly written report. She also wants a complete inventory of all the alien tech and artifacts you have here. I won't submit any reports without letting you read them first. If there's anything you don't like, I'll listen to your reasons, and I'll consider removing it." He leaned forward and looked at the other man earnestly. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I'm not here to undermine you or cause problems. I really do want to help."

Jack stared hard at him for a long moment, and once again Ianto found himself struggling not to squirm under the steely, impenetrable gaze. "Think you can make fantastic coffee like this for me every day?" he eventually asked.

"Absolutely," Ianto agreed quickly, hopeful that the man's resolve was weakening. "As much as you can drink."

Jack looked at him searchingly again, finally breathing out a long sigh. He gave Ianto a terse nod. "All right. Three month trial period. I don't want to see you here before eight a.m. each morning, and by six p.m. every evening, I want you out of here. You get one day off a week. Nominally Sunday, but if want a different day at any stage, let me know in advance, and that should be fine. If you need any other time off, let me know, and I'll try to accommodate you. You won't be doing field work, but I still want you to have weapons training along with basic self-defence and hand-to-hand combat. Think you're up for that?"

Ianto nodded. "Yes. We were given basic weapons training during the induction process at Torchwood London."

"Well, it's a start. I'll see how good you are and we'll go from there." Jack pushed a pad and pen across the desk. "Write down your current mobile number. Keep your phone with you and turned on at all times."

Ianto nodded again and neatly wrote down his number, pushing the pad and pen back towards the other man.

Jack opened a drawer in his desk, extracted a plastic card and an unexceptional looking key, and slid them across to Ianto. "Security pass for the main entrance and the parking garage, and a key for the outside door of the tourist office. Your biometric data is already in the system from when you entered the Hub earlier." He paused and wrote on a small white card, then passed it across too. "My mobile number. I'll set up an account for you on the mainframe. You'll have restricted access for the time being. We can work out anything else as we go along."

Feeling an unexpected surge of relief, Ianto picked up the items and placed them carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. "Thank you."

Jack stood up. "Welcome to Torchwood Three, Ianto Jones."

"I'll do my best not to let you down, sir," Ianto said solemnly as he also stood up, squaring his shoulders and holding his arms stiffly at his sides.

"I expect your loyalty, Ianto." Jack took a step closer. "If you betray me or do anything behind my back, I'll have you retconned and on your way back to London before you know what hit you. Understood?"

Ianto nodded, swallowing hard. "Understood, sir."

Jack's stern expression softened slightly. "You don't have to call me 'sir', you know. Jack's fine."

"I know, sir," Ianto replied evenly.

Jack glared at him but seemed to be struggling to hold back the hint of a smile. "You're a cheeky bastard, aren't you?"

"Oh, you have no idea, Captain." Ianto gave the older man an impish grin, and realising their conversation was at an end, he turned and moved towards the doorway.

He felt some of the tension he'd been carrying begin to ease. Although he wasn't entirely sure what he'd gotten himself into, he had the chance he wanted. Now he had to prove to the Captain that he hadn't made a mistake in giving it to him.

Just as he reached the threshold, he looked over his shoulder. Jack was staring back at him with a bewildered expression.

Ianto met the other man's eyes again. "By the way, I really like that coat."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** This chapter concludes Ianto's first day with Jack. Hope it's an enjoyable read. Thanks to the talented Prothrombintime for encouragement and feedback.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_**October 13th, 2003 (continued)**_

Ianto spent the rest of the morning pottering around his new workplace, exploring the vast underground base and performing some initial tidying up. Before long he'd filled several black garbage bags with the worst of the litter that had been cluttering the main work level. The woeful lack of cleaning supplies meant he'd have to postpone more serious efforts until he had a chance to go shopping.

By half-past twelve he was feeling hungry, having forgone breakfast due to his nervousness, despite the disapproving murmurings of the kindly lady who ran the bed and breakfast.

Once again he made his way to the entrance of Jack's office. He knocked to announce himself. "Thought I'd pop out to buy some lunch, if that's all right, sir? Can I get you something?"

Jack glanced up distractedly from the data he was studying on his screen. "Whatever you're having is fine. Thanks."

Ianto nodded. "Back in a bit then."

Once above ground again, Ianto strolled along Mermaid Quay, taking in the mostly familiar surroundings and enjoying the unusually moderate and thankfully dry weather. He spent several minutes standing by the railings and looking out over the water before heading into a nearby shop to procure some food. Being lunchtime, the area was bustling with people, but it lacked the frantic pace he had slowly become accustomed to in London. He soon decided that being back in Cardiff wasn't perhaps as bad as he'd first thought. At least he had a definite reason for being there, even if it hadn't been his own choice.

Unsure of the Captain's likes and dislikes, he settled on chicken salad sandwiches, a jam donut for Jack, and a chocolate one for himself, along with a couple of apples. Stopping by a real estate agent on the way back to the Hub, he scanned the available rental properties in the window. He needed to find a flat quickly and he wanted somewhere close by.

The neighbouring area of Splott seemed like a viable option, even though the unfortunate name was unappealing. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from looking pained every time he had to tell someone where he lived. Wandering inside, he spoke to a helpful middle-aged lady who gave him a list of nearby properties available for immediate occupation. Promising to call for a viewing if any of them took his fancy, he crossed the Plass and entered the Hub again, using the key and security card Jack had given him earlier.

The massive cogwheel-shaped door which served as the primary entrance to the Hub rolled back into place with a heavy thud, and he walked into the kitchen area. He busied himself with making a fresh round of coffees, then delivered the coffee and food to the Captain's desk, waving away the other man's distracted offer of payment for his lunch.

Retrieving his own coffee, Ianto reluctantly settled himself on the battered sofa, tucked a paper napkin neatly into his collar, and began nibbling at his sandwich. He tried not to think about what his freshly dry cleaned suit might be coming into contact with. Lost in his thoughts of the strange direction his life had taken, he was startled when Jack appeared and sat down beside him. The older man casually put his booted feet up on the low table in front of them, his coffee mug in one hand, and his jam donut in the other as he noisily devoured it.

"Thanks for lunch," Jack mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Ianto nodded and smiled at him. "Any time. All part of the friendly service." He quickly reached for a spare napkin and handed it to the other man, hoping he was managing to hide his horror over Jack's unrefined eating habits. "You've, um... you've got jam on your chin."

Jack took the napkin and wiped roughly at his face. "Thanks."

Ianto wasn't sure if Jack's sudden appearance was an attempt to be friendly or if was just keeping an eye on him. The old adage of 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' sprang to his mind. He reminded himself that while Jack had agreed he could stay, he had a long and potentially treacherous road ahead before the other man would actually trust him. However, he was determined to prove himself and eventually gain Jack's trust, no matter how long it took.

Not for the first time, Ianto wondered why he of all people had been assigned to Torchwood Three. He'd come up with two possible explanations, one only slightly less disturbing than the other. The first was that he was entirely expendable. Being a new recruit, no one was going to miss him. The other was that of all the people employed by Torchwood London, he was probably the least threatening. Yvonne Hartman was clever and she would have had a good reason for choosing him. Given his youth and admittedly boyish, fresh-faced features, she probably thought he had the appearance of someone who Jack Harkness wouldn't see as a legitimate threat. Neither reason provided Ianto with a measure of comfort, and he was certain Jack wasn't that gullible. Hartman wasn't a fool, but in this case it seemed she had underestimated both himself and the Captain.

The other man took a slurp of coffee, the sound pulling Ianto from his thoughts. "I meant to ask you before if you've got somewhere to stay?" Jack asked suddenly. "You only just moved back here the other day, right?"

"Yep. I'm staying at a local bed and breakfast," Ianto replied. "I need to find a flat. I picked up a list from a real estate agent while I was out getting lunch. There's a couple of flats in Splott." He paused, unable to stop himself from cringing inwardly. "I believe the real estate agents pronounce it Sploe," he added dryly. "One of those might be all right."

Jack nodded. "Go and check them out this afternoon if you like."

"You sure?" Ianto asked, looking at him in surprise.

"It's been a quiet day so far. I'll come with you."

Ianto couldn't help being suspicious of Jack's seemingly altruistic offer. "You don't have to do that."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "It's no problem. I'll help you find somewhere nice."

Ianto supposed he'd better play along, even though he would have preferred to go flat hunting on his own. "Oh, er... well, okay. Thank you, sir."

Jack jumped up and returned to his office, coming back a moment later as he shrugged on his greatcoat. "Come on, I'll show you the scenic route."

His curiosity piqued, Ianto removed his napkin, wiped his mouth, stood up, and followed Jack over to a large stone slab near the base of the water tower. "Sir?"

Jack moved to stand on the stone. "Stand on here. C'mon, next to me."

Ianto looked at him suspiciously, but he did as he was told and stood next to the other man. He watched as Jack pressed a button on the leather wrist-strap he wore on his left arm. It had a small screen and several buttons, appearing to be some sort of remote control or miniature computer. Ianto had noticed it earlier and wondered what it was. It looked alien, or at least not of twenty-first century Earth design.

With a sharp jolt the slab they were both standing on started moving upwards. Ianto stumbled and almost lost his footing from the sudden movement. "Whoa!"

"Careful." Jack's arm wound around Ianto's waist and held him firmly in place. "If you're acrophobic, you might not want to look down."

Ianto stared around in awe as they ascended through the vast expanse of the Hub. From the vantage point high up in the air it was a truly spectacular sight. After a few moments he realised he'd stopped breathing and quickly drew in a lungful of air. While he didn't understand it, he somehow felt certain this was where he was meant to be... where he wanted to be.

Jack continued to hold him close, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. Ianto looked up and saw that far above, an identical slab of stone in the ceiling was sliding back into the Hub, revealing an expanse of blue-grey sky.

The lift carried them through the opening and the slab locked into place with a loud mechanical clunk, leaving them standing on the Plass where people were milling around, apparently oblivious to the two men who had just risen up from beneath the ground.

Ianto pulled away from Jack and looked at him in astonishment. "But they can see the lift. Why aren't they..." He paused and glanced around in confusion. "We're right out in the open. They can see everything!"

"Do they look like they can see us?" Jack asked, looking amused by Ianto's reaction.

Ianto frowned. "No, but... look at us!"

Jack waved at a young man passing by only a few feet in front of them. "Hello! Hey, you there, hello!"

Ianto watched as the man completely ignored Jack, showing no sign that he could see or hear him.

"It's called a perception filter," Jack explained, smiling broadly as he looked at Ianto again. "He can sort of see us, but we don't quite register. Just like something in the corner of your eye. It only works on this exact spot. Step off..." He took a step forward and addressed an older woman who was now walking past. "Hi! Nice day!"

The woman jumped, looking startled, and stared at Jack incredulously before hurrying away.

Jack turned back to Ianto and grinned. "And lo, we are perceived."

"How does it work?" Ianto asked, looking down at the slab beneath his feet curiously and then back up at Jack.

Jack shrugged. "No idea. I know how to use it, not how it happens. But if I were to guess, I'd say that there was once a dimensionally transcendental chameleon-circuit placed right on this spot which welded its perception properties to a spatial-temporal rift. But that sounds kind of ridiculous. 'Invisible lift' has got more of a ring to it."

Ianto had no idea what Jack was talking about. He stepped forward so he was standing at Jack's side again. "But... if no one can see it when the lift's coming up... and there's a bloody big hole in the floor... don't people fall in?"

"That is so Welsh," Jack said, looking infuriatingly smug.

Ianto scowled. "What is?"

"I show you something fantastic... and you find fault."

Ianto rolled his eyes at the other man. "It is fantastic," he agreed. "It's brilliant, actually." He gestured at Jack's wrist. "Your wrist-strap thingy... what else does it do?"

"Oh, this and that," Jack replied breezily, and Ianto only barely managed not to roll his eyes again at the lack of subtlety in the man's obvious evasion.

Jack grinned again, still looking exceptionally pleased with himself. "Come on, let's find you a place to stay."

###

Almost three hours later, Ianto was beginning to feel irritated. He'd phoned the real estate agent and organised to see three of the more promising flats on the list. Fortunately, she'd been able to meet with them immediately. Two of the flats had been reasonable options in Ianto's opinion, and well within his budget, while still providing a short commute to the Hub. However, Jack had been stubbornly unimpressed, hastily dismissing each flat, and repeatedly saying that Ianto could do better.

The only highlight of the afternoon was that Jack had driven them around in the Torchwood SUV, a heavily customised, large, black Range Rover, fully fitted out with all manner of high-tech kit. Like everything else at Torchwood Three, it was in desperate need of a thorough cleaning, both inside and out. Ianto mentally added the task to his rapidly growing to-do list. As he studied the impressive vehicle, he idly wondered if Jack would ever let him drive it.

They were now standing in an admittedly spectacular, semi-furnished, fifth-floor apartment only a few minutes' walk from the Hub, and which Jack inexplicably had access to. Although Ianto preferred something less contemporary in style, he had to admit that the bay views, efficient open-plan design, and sleek finish were not without their appeal.

"This is more like it." Jack turned from where he'd been gazing out through the large windows dominating one wall of the living area. "What do you think?"

"I can't afford anything like this, sir," Ianto protested.

"Sure you can."

Ianto shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure I can't."

He looked at Jack suspiciously. After a moment, he realised what was going on. None of this was about Jack wanting to help him find a place to live. It was all about Jack wanting to keep a close eye on him. With the CCTV cameras in the common areas of the building, plus those in the surrounding streets, Jack would be able to monitor his movements more easily than with the other flats they'd looked at.

"What's going on here, sir?" Ianto asked cautiously. "Who does this place belong to?"

For the second time since they'd met, Jack looked sheepish. "Actually, it's mine."

Ianto looked at him in surprise. "You live here?"

"No, I've never really lived here." Jack seemed to be trying hard to show disinterest, but Ianto thought he detected an underlying note of sadness in the man's voice. "I bought it on a whim a couple of years ago, but I don't use it. You can move in if you want. Do whatever you like with it... repaint, redecorate, replace the furniture. I don't care. Totally up to you."

"How much do you want per month?" Ianto asked, wondering what the catch was.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. Same as those other flats we looked at?"

"It's easily worth twice that much." Ianto narrowed his eyes, feeling his irritation deepen. "I'm not a charity case, Captain."

Jack held up a hand defensively. "Fine. Let's say the same as the others plus twenty-percent?" He paused, apparently waiting for Ianto's response, but when Ianto didn't give him one, he added, "I'll have my solicitor draw up a rental agreement if you like. You can just pay the rent into my bank account each month."

Ianto took a moment to deliberate his options. He knew he should refuse on principle, and he wasn't happy that Jack had more or less manipulated him. But he had to admit it was an easy solution, it would suit his needs, and if he refused, Jack would think he had something to hide. Besides, he reasoned, it didn't have to be forever, and he could always look for something else of his own if things worked out and he ended up staying in Cardiff.

He forced himself to relax and a question occurred to him. "Where do you live then?"

"I've got quarters at the Hub," Jack replied with what seemed like a trace of reluctance. "It's convenient, and I'm there if anything happens."

Ianto nodded. It made sense given there was no one else to deal with any emergencies, and the Rift obviously didn't observe business hours.

He glanced around the open space and peered into the solitary bedroom again. It was a decent size and the large bed looked as good as new. It was the only piece of furniture in the apartment other than quite a nice leather sofa and coffee table in the living area, both of which also looked unused. The bedroom also had a generously proportioned built-in wardrobe along the length of one wall that would easily accommodate his suits and other clothes, and even allow plenty of room to expand his collection.

The kitchen tucked in next to the entrance was compact but more than adequate for his needs, and a spot at one end of the bench-top would be perfect for a coffee machine. Having been neglected for so long, the place needed a thorough cleaning, and Ianto was already making a mental list of everything he'd need to buy in order to transform it into a comfortable place to live.

Turning back towards Jack, who was watching him curiously, Ianto nodded. "All right, I'll take it. You'll get that rental agreement sorted?"

"Sure," Jack replied.

Ianto moved to the door. "Well, we should be getting back to work."

Jack strode across the room and joined him. "Take the rest of the day off and get your things moved in. You'll probably want to do some shopping for essentials too." He handed Ianto a pair of keys for the entrances to the building and the apartment, along with a swipe card for the underground garage. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay... um, thank you." He offered the older man a polite smile. "See you in the morning, sir."

Ianto stood in the doorway of his new home and watched as Jack disappeared down the hall in a swirl of coattails. He had to admit that the man was dashing, and he certainly knew how to make an entrance and exit. The Captain was also intriguing, and somewhat despite himself, Ianto realised he actually liked him. They were going to be spending a lot of time together, and he hoped that eventually they'd be able to form an amiable working relationship.

With that thought in mind, Ianto Jones began his new life in Cardiff, with Torchwood Three and Jack Harkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone for reading and alerting so far. Please review and let me know if you're enjoying it. Reviews encourage me to keep writing and post more quickly :-). Thanks again to Prothrombintime for invaluable support and encouragement.

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**Chapter Five**

_**January 10th, 2004**_

Sitting alone on the Hub's sofa, Ianto finished writing the latest entry in his diary and closed the cover, sliding his pen back into his jacket pocket. He enjoyed the process of keeping a diary, and he tried to set aside time for it each day. It allowed him to organise his thoughts, providing a measure of clarity for his nimble but often restless mind.

With a weary sigh, he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the dull ache that had taken hold several hours earlier, and slumped back against the cushions. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was almost seven p.m. He sighed once more. Jack would undoubtedly give him a bollocking for staying beyond his curfew again, assuming he returned any time soon. Jack had dashed out of the Hub two hours earlier when an alert came in about three Weevils on the loose in Bute Park.

Ianto had offered to accompany his boss, but as always the man had firmly refused the offer of assistance. Ianto was worried, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go home until he knew the situation was under control and that Jack was all right. While he sometimes wryly wondered if the Captain was indestructible, the man was still only human... at least Ianto thought he was, and he was holding onto that assumption until he found evidence to the contrary. He didn't like that Jack took it upon himself to deal with every threat Torchwood Three faced on his own. No matter how strongly Jack denied needing help, it was obvious that in actual fact he did. Ianto had quickly decided that Jack's belligerent stubbornness and general bloody mindedness could rival even the most tenacious of Welshmen.

Almost three months had passed, and Ianto had settled into a familiar routine. Each morning began with delivering coffee to Jack's office, followed by checking the overnight logs and forwarding any alerts to Jack which might require his attention. If there was any laundry or dry cleaning to be done, he'd take care of that too. Mid-morning was the second delivery of coffee for the day, accompanied by a biscuit or two – Jack's favourite being custard creams or anything coated with chocolate – or something a little more decadent if he'd been out earlier that morning. He provided lunch if the Captain wasn't out and about, otherwise Ianto ensured there was something waiting in the refrigerator for when he returned.

Cleaning was an inevitable part of each day, and Ianto did his best to keep at least the main areas of the Hub clean, organised, and tidy. Sometimes it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle, but he'd made measurable progress. The rest of his time was spent on his archiving and administrative duties, unless Jack assigned him any special tasks, which he did on occasion. But for the most part, Ianto was left to manage his work hours as he wished.

Every Friday morning, he submitted his weekly report to Yvonne Hartman, after consulting with Jack on its contents. He suspected the Captain was withholding information about some of the more dangerous artifacts and technology in Torchwood Three's possession, but he hadn't pressed the issue, conceding to Jack's judgement.

Twice a week, both time and the Rift permitting, he had training sessions with Jack. The Captain had proven himself to be a tough and uncompromising instructor, but also fair and patient. From the very beginning, he hadn't gone easy on Ianto, always pushing him to his limits. Ianto was now well used to the ache of previously underutilised muscles, accompanied by the tenderness of bruised flesh. Jack didn't teach him fancy fighting styles, he kept it simple, showing Ianto how to use his size, agility, and strength to their best advantage. Being tall but slimly built, Ianto was at a natural disadvantage, especially when compared to Jack's superior strength and physique. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd ended up flat on his back on the ancient training mats, Jack grinning smugly down at him before offering a hand and hauling him back to his feet. He'd managed to take Jack by surprise a few times though, and what he lacked in strength, he made up for in determination and sheer cunning. He'd felt quite proud when Jack had complimented his fierce right hook. While it wasn't in Ianto's nature to be violent or aggressive, he'd be lying if he said he didn't occasionally find satisfaction in hurling his fist in Jack's general direction.

He'd also become proficient with a wide range of projectile weaponry, honing his marksmanship skills. Jack wasn't effusive with praise, but Ianto thought the older man seemed pleased with his progress so far. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed the sessions with Jack, and while the Captain often showed a distinct lack of respect for personal space, Ianto admired his obvious skill and combat experience. Jack was a soldier and could probably handle just about any situation he was thrown into. Ianto couldn't imagine anyone better to train and guide him.

Ianto liked and respected the Captain, but he also found him frustrating and confusing. Jack could be a moody bastard, and Ianto never quite knew what to expect from one day to the next. Sometimes Jack was friendly and flirtatious, complimenting Ianto on his suits and appearance. Other times he was cold and distant, barely acknowledging Ianto's existence. It was obvious Jack still didn't trust him, and he often caught Jack watching him, seemingly observing his every move. He could understand that, especially given Jack's distrust of Yvonne Hartman and Torchwood One, but he couldn't help wondering if it was something more... if Jack simply didn't like him, but was resigned to them being stuck with one another. He wondered if he'd been a bit too eager in trying to get into the Captain's good graces, casting himself in an unfavourable light as a result.

Outside of work, Ianto had settled into the apartment, furnishing it to his liking and creating a small sanctuary for himself. He lead a solitary existence in his off hours, but he'd always been somewhat of a loner, and that hadn't really changed. Since the heartache of his breakup with Lisa, he wasn't ready to think about trying to date again. His life was Torchwood and Jack, and for the moment, that felt like enough. He spent his days off reacquainting himself with Cardiff, indulging in shopping or the cinema, reading, watching telly, or busying himself with household chores. While he wasn't especially lonely, and he'd always been more or less content being on his own, he missed having some companionship. He'd never been much of a talker, but sometimes he thought it might be nice to have someone to chat to and share a laugh with. He wasn't unhappy, but it seemed like a long time since he'd genuinely laughed about anything.

Thoughts of his own reclusive existence often caused him to wonder about Jack's life outside of Torchwood. From what he could tell, Torchwood was Jack's life. The older man had never mentioned any romantic interests, family, or even friends or acquaintances, but they never really talked about those subjects anyway. There had been rumours at Torchwood One about certain proclivities of the enigmatic Captain, and Ianto suspected that Jack was gay, or perhaps bisexual. A man who pranced around in 1940's regalia and that ostentatious coat probably wasn't entirely straight, but Ianto prided himself on not making such superficial judgements. Besides, he really did like Jack's coat.

As long as Jack didn't try anything on with him – and he never had in the three months since they'd met – Ianto didn't care about the other man's sexual orientation. To each his own as far as Ianto was concerned, and despite Jack's occasional flirting, Ianto knew he didn't have anything to worry about. Someone like Jack, who could probably have anyone he set his sights on, would never be interested in an unremarkable man such as Ianto Jones.

However, he was intensely curious about Jack's apparent longevity. He'd found almost nothing about Jack in the archives so far, and he suspected the Captain had attempted to remove any files pertaining to his background and activities. But there had been a couple of nuggets of information he'd stumbled upon... as impossible as it seemed, they suggested that Jack had been involved with Torchwood for a little over a century. Ianto had tried to come up with theories on how that was possible, but each one seemed more preposterous than the last.

Looking down at the diary sitting in his lap, he trailed his fingers over the thick, soft leather, and a small smile graced his lips. It had been a thoughtful, albeit belated, Christmas gift from Jack. The Captain had banished him from the Hub for the few days over the Christmas and New Year break, much to Ianto's annoyance. With no other alternative available to him, Ianto had been forced to spend Christmas Day with his sister and her family. He supposed it had been pleasant enough, and she seemed happy that he was back in Cardiff, but he would have preferred to be at the Hub instead.

He'd been unsure of the appropriate gift-giving etiquette since he and Jack weren't actually friends, but he'd decided to take the initiative, and on Christmas Eve he'd nervously presented Jack with a neatly gift-wrapped bottle of expensive Scotch. He still remembered the look of astonishment on the older man's face. On his return to the Hub after Christmas, he'd found the new leather diary waiting for him on his desk with a hastily scrawled note: _"Ianto, I saw this and thought you might like it. Jack."_

Captain Jack Harkness was a mass of contradictions, and even after three months, Ianto felt no closer to understanding him. He thought it was quite possible he never would.

The sound of the opening of the cogwheel door abruptly interrupted his thoughts. Ianto jumped to his feet and hurried forward, but almost immediately froze at the sight before him. Jack was standing just inside the door, staring back at him, his clothes, neck, and face covered in blood.

"Shit!" Ianto said, returning to his senses after the moment of initial shock had passed. He dashed towards Jack. "Oh, my God. Jack, what happened? Are you all right?"

Ianto reached his hand up to examine Jack's neck where dried blood was heavily caked to the skin, but Jack stepped back, pulling away from him. "You shouldn't be here, Ianto."

Ianto ignored the admonishment, not caring for the moment about Jack's pedantry over his working hours. He frowned as he peered at Jack's neck, looking for any sign of a wound, but other than the blood the skin appeared to be intact. "It looks like you were bleeding."

Jack shrugged and started making his way up to his office. "Had worse from shaving."

Ianto only barely managed not to roll his eyes as he followed behind him. "What happened?" he asked again.

"Weevils," Jack replied. "One of them was a tough son-of-a-bitch. Took me by surprise."

"You could have been killed!" Ianto struggled to keep the hysteria from his voice. He couldn't understand how Jack could be so casual about it all, or how he'd ended up covered in so much blood, and yet didn't seem to have a scratch on him. "We should get you to the hospital. Get you checked out."

"I'm fine, Ianto." The exasperation in Jack's voice was evident, but Ianto chose to ignore it.

They'd reached Jack's office, and Ianto stepped forward, determinedly tugging off Jack's blood-stained coat. Jack didn't resist, but then he turned away and started descending through the round hatch in the floor to what Ianto had discovered were his tiny quarters below. "I'm going to take a shower and change into some clean clothes. You need to go home."

"No. I'll... um... I'll make you some coffee." It seemed like a ridiculous thing to say under the circumstances, but he wasn't convinced that Jack really was okay, and it was the one thing he knew Jack would never refuse.

Jack sighed, glancing up at him. "Okay. I won't be long," he said before disappearing into his bunker.

Ianto folded the greatcoat neatly and left Jack's office. Retrieving a black garbage bag from the kitchen, he put the coat inside. He'd have to try to remove the worst of the bloodstains, and then take it to their regular dry cleaner in the morning. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to be creative about explaining the condition of Jack's soiled clothing, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Fortunately, they were very good customers.

Leaving the coat for the moment, Ianto ran his hand distractedly through his hair, only belatedly remembering that his hands were stained with traces of blood. Whether it was Jack's blood or that of a Weevil, he didn't know. His mind conjured up horrific images of Jack sprawled on the ground in the park, dead, his body ripped open and a pack of hungry Weevils descending upon him. Shuddering involuntarily, Ianto shook his head and tried to bring his thoughts back to the task at hand. Jack was fine, he reassured himself. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Jack was killed or incapacitated. Torchwood needed Jack... Cardiff needed Jack... and although he was somewhat loath to admit it, he needed Jack too.

Grimacing at the red stains on his skin, he washed his hands thoroughly, then busied himself with preparing coffee. He took his time, knowing it would take Jack a while to shower and change. When he finally saw Jack emerging from his bunker dressed in a fresh pair of grey trousers and one of his customary white undershirts, he filled their mugs and carried them over to the office.

"Here we go, sir," he announced with false cheer, placing Jack's usual mug down on his side of the desk, and sitting down opposite him.

Ianto sipped at his coffee before putting it down on the desk and looking up to meet Jack's eyes. Jack was watching him with obvious disapproval, but Ianto was relieved to see that other than looking tired, he appeared to be his usual self once again.

Ianto's eyes drifted from Jack's face for a moment, taking in the stretch of Jack's t-shirt over his broad, muscular chest. He couldn't help but envy Jack's impressive physique. His own wiry frame was a far cry from Jack's proportions, although he'd managed to tone up a bit since beginning the training sessions. Nevertheless, he sometimes couldn't help feeling self-conscious in Jack's presence, especially when they were training and he didn't have the benefit of a suit to hide beneath. He supposed plenty of people would feel intimidated and inadequate when confronted by Jack Harkness.

"Thanks." Jack picked up his mug and took several sips, but he was still looking far from happy. "You shouldn't be here," he said after a moment, repeating his words from earlier and narrowing his eyes. "I've warned you before about your insubordination."

Ianto clenched his hand into a fist under the desk, struggling to hold back an angry retort. "I was worried about you," he said evenly, marvelling not for the first time at his ability to remain stoic and detached in the face of Jack's unpredictable moods. "I only stayed because I wanted to make sure you were all right." He paused and looked at Jack searchingly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Jack's expression cleared a little. "I'm fine. Stop fretting. It takes a hell of a lot more than a couple of Weevils to take me down." He sighed and took a mouthful of coffee. "I've been doing this for a long time. I know what I'm doing."

Ianto nodded. "Just... just be careful out there, yeah?"

Jack gave him a grim smile. "I'm always careful."

Ianto nodded again, but he wasn't sure if he believed Jack's words. From what he'd observed, Jack was too reckless at times. "I can stay for a bit," he suggested, still not quite believing that Jack was fine, despite all evidence to the contrary. "Keep you company?"

Jack shook his head and Ianto hoped his disappointment didn't show. "No, you should go home. I'm going to turn in and get some rest."

Ianto reluctantly rose to his feet and collected his half-empty mug. "All right. Well, I'd better go then."

He was surprised when Jack also stood up and moved around the desk, standing directly in front of him. Jack rested his hand on Ianto's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Jack smiled, all trace of his earlier annoyance apparently gone. "I appreciate your concern. You're a good man, Ianto Jones." He patted Ianto's shoulder and moved back to the other side of the desk. "Enjoy your day off. I'll see you on Monday."

Ianto smiled back, astonished by Jack's abrupt change in mood. "Um... call me if you need anything. I'll drop your coat in at the cleaners in the morning."

Jack sat down at his desk again. "Okay. Thanks."

Ianto nodded and moved to the doorway. He briefly turned back towards the older man and their eyes met for a moment. There was something odd about Jack's demeanour that he hadn't seen before. Jack seemed diminished... vulnerable even. "'Night, sir," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Ianto," Jack replied quietly, lowering his eyes and turning away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone reading this and following so far. I hope it's proving to be enjoyable and I really appreciate all the support. Special thanks to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_**January 12th, 2004**_

After his habitual Sunday off, Ianto entered the Hub just after eight o'clock on Monday morning, feeling anxious, tired, and generally out of sorts. Having spent more time on his grooming and clothing selection than usual, he was running late, much to his consternation.

He'd picked up Jack's freshly dry cleaned coat on the way to work, and he hung it carefully on the coat stand in Jack's office. There was no sign of the other man, but the light brown utility jacket he wore when his coat was being cleaned was hanging on the stand, so Ianto assumed he was somewhere in the Hub.

After depositing a bag of the Captain's beloved jam donuts on the desk, he retreated to the Hub's kitchen area and set about making the first round of coffee for the day. This particular day had been marked in his diary for almost three months, and his anxiety had been slowly building over the past week, his future hanging in the balance. More desperately in need of his morning caffeine fix than usual, he decided to prepare his industrial-strength blend, hoping it would help to settle his nerves.

The image of Jack covered in blood continued to haunt him, although he wasn't sure why it bothered him so profoundly. Torchwood was inherently dangerous, and the Captain dealt with all kinds of threats on a regular basis. Weevils in particular were a familiar and relatively mundane foe. Although vicious and deadly, they were slow, acting more on instinct than any form of higher-intelligence, and they were easily outwitted. It was when they hunted in packs they were at their most deadly. Jack had dealt with them countless times in the past, and as he'd reminded Ianto, he knew what he was doing.

The problem was, despite their awkward working relationship, Ianto genuinely liked and cared about the Captain, and he enjoyed doing his best to take care of him. While Jack could seem cold and unfeeling at times, Ianto was certain the man wasn't heartless. He sometimes wondered how many people actually got to see the real Jack Harkness. Having spent a great deal of time observing and thinking about his mysterious boss, and he felt certain that beyond the facade of aloofness and careless bravado, there was a compassionate and deeply sensitive man.

Jack seemed so isolated and lonely, and as far as Ianto could tell, he didn't have anyone in his life. That, at least, was something they had in common, and Ianto wondered if perhaps deep down, they weren't really as different as he'd initially thought.

Regardless, it was obvious he'd only barely begun to scratch the surface of the enigma that was Captain Jack Harkness.

###

With his usual morning routine completed, Ianto spent several hours working in the archives. Just before noon, deciding he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer, he returned upstairs, prepared a fresh round of coffee, and entered the Captain's office with two steaming mugs in hand. Placing them down on the desk, he tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat, straightened the lapels of his jacket, adjusted the knot of his tie, and then sat down opposite the other man. Clasping his hands tightly in his lap, he squared his shoulders and patiently waited.

Jack ignored him for a minute or so, studiously looking at some Rift readings on his screen while sipping distractedly at his coffee. Eventually he looked up and seemed to realise Ianto was still there. "Something on your mind, Ianto?"

Ianto cleared his throat nervously. "I'm here for my review, sir."

Jack frowned. "What review?" he asked, looking at him blankly.

Ianto knew he shouldn't be surprised Jack had forgotten. In hindsight, he should have added an entry to the Captain's appointment list, not that the man ever seemed to actually look at it. He was regularly reminding the Captain of where he needed to be or what he needed to be doing.

"You said I was on a three month trial period," he replied evenly. "Three months are up today."

"Oh, I see." Jack looked momentarily taken aback, but there also seemed to be a flicker of amusement in his features. "Three months already, huh?"

Ianto nodded tersely. "Yes, sir."

Jack's expression became contemplative. "So, you've put up with me for three whole months," he murmured, almost more to himself than to Ianto.

Ianto nodded again. "It would seem so, sir."

"Hmm. Honestly, I wasn't sure you'd last." Jack leaned back in his chair and looked at him curiously. "I'm not always the easiest person to work with."

Ianto only barely managed not to snort derisively at the understatement. "I'm sure I hadn't noticed, sir."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and Ianto couldn't help but smirk slightly in response, despite his anxiety. Settling his features back into an impassive countenance, he held Jack's gaze as the other man stared back at him for several long moments before speaking.

"You've proven yourself to be a hard worker, Ianto." Jack straightened up and clasped his hands together, resting them on the desk in front of him. "You're efficient, punctual, and dedicated. You've also made good progress on your training. The Hub is running smoothly, and it's never been this clean or well-organised." He paused in his assessment, a frown creasing his brow. "There's the few times when you've ignored my rules about your working hours, but I suppose I can overlook that."

"I can stay then, sir?" Ianto asked cautiously, genuinely surprised by Jack's uncharacteristic praise. "Permanently?"

Jack gave a non-committal shrug. "If that's what you want." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I doubt I'd be able to last a day now without your fantastic coffee. Besides, you're not exactly hard on the eyes."

"I believe that's harassment, sir," Ianto admonished, raising an eyebrow.

Jack sighed dramatically. "You twenty-first century people and all your rules and inhibitions. So, I can't tell you how good you look in a suit?" His eyes roamed over Ianto's upper body appraisingly. "By the way, is that a new one today? I don't think I've seen it before."

Ianto felt heat rise to his cheeks at Jack's flattery. "No, sir, you can't. And yes, it is a new suit." He paused and tried to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help feeling pleased that Jack had noticed his new and expensive bespoke suit. He'd paired it with a deep red shirt and a matching red and black striped tie. While modesty prevented him from preening overtly, he thought the overall combination was quite pleasing to the eye. He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Erm... I'm glad you like it," he added.

Jack leaned forward, a lascivious leer spreading across his features. Ianto felt the warmth in his face deepen as he shifted awkwardly in his chair. With determination, he continued to meet the Captain's intense gaze.

"Oh, I like it very much," Jack said, leaning back as his features turned serious again. "So, you want to stay?"

"Yes," Ianto replied firmly, unable to hide the rush of relief from his voice.

"Good." Jack paused and looked curious again. "You seem relieved that I don't want you to go?"

"It's just..." Ianto shook his head slightly, unsure of how to respond. Reaching up, he nervously adjusted the knot of his tie again. "Well, ah... I didn't think you liked me very much. To be blunt, sir, you don't seem to like me being here. There are times when you barely acknowledge my existence."

Jack looked chastised, much to Ianto's astonishment. "It's been a while since I've had to work with anyone," he said quietly. A strange, inscrutable expression passed over Jack's features and it seemed like he was about to say something more, but then thought better of it. "But you're wrong, Ianto. I like you... I've liked you since the day we met."

"Oh," Ianto replied, taken aback by Jack's startling admission. "But you don't trust me?" he asked, unable to keep the accusation from his voice.

Jack sighed, leaning back further in his chair. "Honestly, no. Not yet. But you haven't done anything that's given me reason not to trust you, at least as far as I know. Unless you've managed to communicate with Hartman or her associates behind my back?"

"No," Ianto replied insistently. "I wouldn't do that. I've told you about every communication I've had with Torchwood London."

Ianto held Jack's searching gaze. It was the truth, and after his first few reports, Yvonne Hartman had seemed to mostly lose interest. He continued to send back a weekly report as he'd been ordered, but he usually received only a brief acknowledgement in response, if that. It seemed she simply wanted to have someone keeping an eye on Jack's activities, but wasn't overly interested in those activities as long as they didn't affect Torchwood London or threaten her leadership.

Jack seemed satisfied with his response, and Ianto hoped the Captain believed him. "Well, as long as that continues, we shouldn't have a problem. Anything else you want to talk about?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, sir."

Jack glanced down at his watch. "It's lunchtime. How about I go and get us something nice? My treat."

Ianto felt his eyes widening in surprise. "I can do that, sir," he said, recovering quickly. "Just tell me what you fancy."

"No, you get lunch for us every day. I'll go for a change." Jack stood up and reached for his greatcoat. "Just think of it as thanks for your dedication and hard work."

Ianto immediately jumped to his feet to help the older man, holding the coat open so Jack could slide his arms into the sleeves. Ianto adjusted the coat so it sat neatly on Jack's shoulders, his hands lingering briefly as he smoothed down the heavy wool fabric. A hint of Jack's familiar aftershave reached his nostrils, causing him to breath in deeply. With a final tweak of the collar, he stepped back, admiring the fit of the garment over the broad expanse of the Captain's back. While not strictly part of his job, he liked to ensure Jack always looked his best.

Jack turned and smiled at him. "Won't be long." He nodded at the paper bag still on his desk. "Thanks for the donuts, by the way. I left one for you if you want it later."

Ianto nodded in reply, returning Jack's smile with a small one of his own. He watched the older man stride across the Hub and step onto the invisible lift. With a deft touch to his wrist-strap, the lift ascended, and Jack soon disappeared from view.

Ignoring the odd fluttering sensation in his stomach, Ianto collected their coffee mugs and walked briskly to the kitchen.

###

Jack returned thirty minutes later with a huge bag of Chinese takeaway, unceremoniously dumping it on the table in front of the sofa. After retrieving plates and bottles of water, Ianto sat down and busied himself with distributing the food between them. There seemed to be enough for several meals and he left a couple of the containers unopened. Jack shrugged off his coat, hung it up in his office, then sat down beside Ianto. He greedily accepted the plate of food Ianto passed him.

"Mmm. This looks good," he mumbled, stuffing a spring roll into his mouth and chewing enthusiastically.

"It does," Ianto agreed, smiling to himself at the other man's unabashed exuberance. "Thanks for getting lunch, sir."

"No problem," Jack replied.

Ianto unfolded a paper napkin, tucking it into the collar of his shirt, then picked up a piece of sweet and sour chicken with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

Jack stopped eating and looked at him. "I noticed you called me Jack for the first time the other day."

"Slip of the tongue," Ianto admitted with shrug.

"Not that the whole 'sir' thing isn't incredibly kinky, but I'd like it if you called me Jack." He shrugged, looking almost coy. "I like how it sounds in those beautiful Welsh vowels of yours."

Ianto lowered his eyes, feeling his face grow warm for the second time that day. "I suppose I could try," he said tentatively.

"How about a deal? Quid pro quo. I won't kick you out of the Hub each night at six if you call me Jack more often. At least after hours or when we're not working, like now." Jack's playful expression suddenly became serious again. "As long as you agree not to work too hard. You need to hang on to your life outside of here. Don't let it drift."

"Okay, deal," Ianto agreed quickly. Frankly, he was fed up with being kicked out of the Hub or being reprimanded for staying past Jack's arbitrary curfew. He gave the other man a timid smile. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack beamed at him and then returned to his food. They ate in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. "So, tell me something about yourself, Ianto."

Ianto paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, and glanced at him. "Like what?"

"Anything you like. I don't know... how about..." Jack paused, apparently trying to think of something. "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

Ianto stared down at his plate as he tried to decide how to respond. He wasn't used to Jack asking him anything about his life. "No. Um, there hasn't been anyone since... well, not since Lisa, my ex-girlfriend. I don't think I'm ready to start dating again."

Jack nodded as he continued to eat. "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

Ianto shrugged. "I loved her. I thought she loved me, but she didn't. She ended it... said we wanted different things." He tried to ignore the familiar stab of pain from when he'd finally realised she didn't share his feelings. "A few weeks later, she started dating someone else. Lisa's beautiful, smart, funny... I suppose I always knew I wasn't good enough for her."

Jack frowned. "Sometimes the timing just isn't right. As for not being good enough, I find that hard to believe. Seems to me you're quite a catch."

"Hardly." Ianto snorted in disbelief. "What about you, Jack?" he asked, trying to deflect attention away from his failed love life. "Anyone special?"

"No. There's no one." Jack's voice was even and detached, but the sadness beneath was unmistakeable. "Hasn't been for a long time. With this job and... well... relationships are difficult doing what we do. I don't want that to happen to you, Ianto. When you meet someone special, do whatever it takes to make it work."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. "Do you get lonely?"

"Sometimes. Yeah."

"Me too," Ianto murmured in agreement.

Ianto looked up sharply when Jack rested a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. The pressure and warmth of Jack's touch was strangely comforting, and Ianto felt disappointed when it vanished a moment later as Jack resumed eating.

The older man suddenly laughed. "Look at the two of us. Two good-looking, eligible bachelors, commiserating on our non-existent love lives. They should be knocking down the doors to get to us."

"You think so?" Ianto asked sceptically.

Jack nodded. "Absolutely."

Ianto shrugged. "We must be doing something wrong then."

"Must be," Jack agreed around a mouthful of food, laughing again.

They didn't talk much more after that, eating mostly in silence, but it was comfortable rather than awkward. Ianto hoped he wasn't being fanciful in thinking they'd made a step forward. It caused him to realise just how much he wanted Jack's trust and friendship.

When lunch was finished and they were both sufficiently full, Ianto put the remaining food in the refrigerator and cleaned up their dishes, taking them over to the sink to be washed. He set about making coffee as Jack stood close by and watched.

"I need to go away for a day or two," Jack said as Ianto passed him a mug of freshly brewed coffee. "There's been some people disappearing. Probably nothing to do with us, but I've been putting it off, and I need to check it out. I'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

"Can I come with you?" Ianto asked, picking up his own drink and turning to face the other man.

Jack looked conflicted and didn't immediately reply. Ianto suspected he was weighing the alternatives of keeping him out of harm's way versus remaining in the Hub unsupervised for an extended period of time. Once again, he was frustrated by Jack's lack of trust in him. "Ianto, I'm not sure if that's a good idea," he said finally.

"You've trained me," Ianto insisted. "I can help."

Jack continued to look uncertain, then he sighed, apparently reaching a reluctant decision. "All right. You'll need to pack an overnight bag, and you'll need clothing suitable for outdoors. No suits, I'm sorry to say."

Ianto nodded. "Where are we going?"

"The Brecon Beacons," Jack replied before turning away and retreating to his office.

Ianto smiled to himself. The day had turned out better than he'd expected. Not only was he relieved that he'd be staying at Torchwood Three with Jack, he felt a thrill of excitement that he was being allowed to accompany the Captain on a field mission at last.

He was determined to do his best to ensure Jack didn't regret either decision.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. I really appreciate it. And a big thanks to the amazing Prothrombintime for feedback and suggestions on this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

_**January 13th, 2004**_

Ianto paid and thanked the surly man operating the roadside food trailer, then grabbed a handful of paper napkins, and collected their impromptu breakfast of greasy cheese burgers and soggy chips.

He made his way back across the damp grass to where Jack was standing at the front of the SUV. The weather was bitterly cold, the sky dull and grey, and a thin mist spread across the rolling landscape of the Brecon Beacons stretched out before them. As much as he'd welcomed the chance to revisit the Welsh countryside and accompany Jack on a mission, he would have preferred to do it under more agreeable weather conditions. Since leaving the warmth of the SUV's interior, the icy wind had managed to rapidly penetrate his multiple layers of clothing, chilling him to the bone.

Dressed in heavy jeans, black t-shirt, casual white shirt, and a dark khaki weatherproof nylon jacket, Ianto felt ill-at-ease and vulnerable without his customary tailored suit. It was also the first time Jack had seen him attired in casual clothes. On his arrival at the Hub, the older man had remarked that he missed the suit, but he'd hastened to add that Ianto still looked good.

Jack was drinking his coffee while studying a large map spread out on the hood of the vehicle. They'd left Cardiff just before dawn, and Ianto was glad he'd had the foresight to prepare a thermos of coffee before leaving home. Jack was unpredictable at the best of times, but he could be downright grumpy and unpleasant before he'd received his first caffeine fix for the day. In fairness, Ianto had to admit he wasn't much better himself in that respect.

Coming to a halt beside Jack, Ianto passed him his share of the food. "Here you go. Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks, Ianto," Jack replied, glancing up at him before unwrapping his burger and taking a large bite out of it.

Tossing a couple of the sub-standard chips into his mouth, Ianto chewed as he leaned in closer and peered at the map.

"Seventeen disappearances within the last five months. Police are clueless," Jack said conversationally, pausing as he took another large mouthful of food. He pointed at their destination on the map. "The last known whereabouts of each one is somewhere around here."

Ianto nodded. "All within a twenty mile radius. Anything else linking them?"

"None of the bodies have ever been found. These people just fell off the radar. No patterns in age, sex, race. One minute they're here, the next..." Jack made a sound obviously meant to indicate something vanishing. "Gone."

"The Rift doesn't spread out this far does it?" Ianto asked curiously.

Jack shrugged. "We don't know enough about it to be certain. I don't think so, but it's too unpredictable to be sure."

Ianto took an unenthusiastic bite from his burger. It tasted as unappealing as it looked, but he was hungry and at least it was hot. "So, it might not be anything to do with the Rift or aliens?"

"Exactly," Jack replied. "We might be wasting our time. We'll start with the most recent victim, Ellie Johnson. We last have record of her making a phone call. She dropped out of signal mid-call. The coverage map has her placed... somewhere about here." Jack pointed to the map again and Ianto nodded as he took another bite from his burger.

"There's a hotel nearby if we need to stay overnight," Jack added. He looked at Ianto and grinned. "Although maybe we should have packed the camping gear."

Ianto pulled a face, expressing his displeasure at the thought. "I hate camping."

Jack laughed. "But it can be rather cosy." He gave Ianto a flirtatious wink. "There's lots of fun things you can do in a sleeping bag. Besides, no other race in the universe goes camping. Celebrate your own uniqueness."

Ianto frowned, ignoring Jack's less than subtle coquetry. It was just a part of the older man's larger than life personality and he'd gotten used to it. However, Jack quite often threw out casual, random remarks that left him feeling even more perplexed about the enigmatic Captain's origin and background. "There's no way you could know that," he argued.

Jack gave him a self-satisfied smile. "You'd be surprised what I know, Ianto Jones. Come on, let's finish our breakfast, then we'll keep going." He looked at Ianto hopefully. "Any of your fantastic coffee left?"

Ianto nodded, smiling to himself at the Captain's predictability in at least that one area. "Of course, sir."

###

Thirty minutes later, they'd reached the stretch of barren land where Ellie Johnson had disappeared. Jack steered the SUV off the road and parked on the nearby grass. Swiftly jumping out of the car, he began surveying the area while fiddling with his wrist-strap, apparently taking readings. Ianto grabbed his rucksack and joined him, extracting his hand-held scanner and beginning to sweep the area for any residual trace of Rift energy.

"No sign of Rift activity," he reported to Jack a few minutes later, after walking in a wide circle and completing a scan of the surrounding area.

Jack pointed to a border of trees at the distant edge of the clearing. "Let's try over there."

Ianto nodded, and they made their way into the wooded area, walking side-by-side in silence. After ten minutes, Ianto came to a stop and looked around. His scanner continued to show no indication of residual Rift energy. He was about to suggest that they should try in the other direction, when out of the corner of his eye he saw something move in the distance between a cluster of trees.

"Someone's watching us," he whispered to Jack, who had stopped a few feet ahead and turned back to look at him. Ianto pointed to where he'd seen the movement. "Through the trees. Fifty yards north. I just saw them move."

Jack moved back to stand next to him and peered into the trees. He pulled out his Webley revolver. "Got your gun?"

"Yes," Ianto replied, putting his scanner into his bag. He reached around to his back and removed his Glock semi-automatic pistol from where he'd tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. His heart pounded with nervous anticipation as he deftly cocked the firing chamber and disabled the safety.

"Stay behind me," Jack ordered in a low, insistent tone. "Cover our backs."

Ianto nodded and peered around anxiously, reminding himself to remain calm and focused. The area was eerily silent and it set his nerves on edge. With his gun raised and gripped firmly in both hands, they slowly moved forward.

A few moments later, he heard a rustling sound of movement to his left. He swung his gun around quickly, attempting to locate the source of the noise. "I can't see anyone," he murmured to Jack.

Jack was sweeping his gaze back and forth over the area in front of them. "Me neither."

There was another rustling sound, this time to Ianto's right. He swung around, but again saw nothing. Suddenly a large blackbird flew up from behind some trees, its wings beating loudly at the air. The unexpected movement caused Ianto to jump in surprise.

Jack spun around, apparently also startled. "Okay?" he asked, glancing worriedly at him.

"Yeah," Ianto muttered, forcing himself to remain composed as he returned to sweeping his eyes over the area.

They continued on, slowly circling around the group of trees Ianto had indicated, and then in a wide arc back towards their original position.

"Whoever it was, it looks like we've lost them," Jack said a few minutes later as they stopped and looked around.

"Maybe we scared them off," Ianto suggested doubtfully.

Jack didn't look convinced either. "Hmm. Maybe."

Still scanning his eyes around for anything out of the ordinary, his gun at the ready, Ianto spotted something on the ground in the distance, underneath a large, aged tree. It was too far away for him to make out what it was. He pointed his gun towards the object. "Jack."

The other man nodded, and they made their way cautiously towards the tree. Once there, they found something covered by a large piece of heavy, dirty cloth. Ianto immediately had a bad feeling about what they'd find beneath. With his stomach twisting unpleasantly, he took an involuntary step backwards as Jack knelt down and used the tip of his gun to gingerly push the cloth away.

Jack pulled back, drawing a loud inhalation of breath, while Ianto gasped in horror as they stared at the human corpse on the ground before them. It was little more than a skeleton, the flesh and organs having been meticulously stripped away.

A gust of wind carried the sickening stench of the rotting carcase to Ianto's nostrils. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, feeling his stomach flip over as bile rose up into his throat.

He watched as Jack grimaced and moved closer again, tentatively examining the corpse. He looked up at Ianto several moments later. "Well, it's not Ellie Johnson. This is a male... late forties, maybe fifties. He wasn't killed here." Jack gestured at the area surrounding the body. "No blood splatter or signs of a struggle. He must have been brought here after he died."

"Why do that?" Ianto asked, trying to force his mind to think rationally. "Not like they've tried to bury him here."

"Maybe we disturbed them and they ran away," Jack suggested, sounding unconvinced.

"Maybe it's a warning," Ianto said, thinking aloud. "Whoever's responsible marking out their territory." He forced himself to take a step closer and look down at the remains. Swallowing hard, he breathed through his mouth in an attempt to avoid the awful smell. He was feeling seriously in danger of losing his breakfast. "Any idea on the cause of death?"

Jack shook his head. "Hard to say. I'm not an expert, and there's not much left here to go on. Could have been anything."

"Could Weevils have come out this far?"

"No. Weevils don't finish off their victims like this."

Ianto suddenly heard a car engine in the distance. He snapped his head around in the direction the sound was coming from. "Jack, the SUV!"

Jack jumped to his feet and together they ran back to the clearing where they'd parked. They reached the edge of the woods just in time to see the SUV turning around, veering back onto the road, and speeding away.

"Aaarrrggghhh!" Jack shouted, chasing after it for a moment before coming to a stop and throwing up his arms in frustration.

Breathing hard from the sprint back to the clearing, Ianto looked on despondently. He wondered what in the hell they were going to do now.

###

Studying his scanner in between glaring balefully at his boss, Ianto worked on locating the stolen SUV using its built-in tracker. He just hoped the thief wasn't clever enough to locate and disable it.

Jack was standing a few metres away, hands on his hips and looking furious, but wisely keeping his distance. Their eyes met and Jack growled in frustration. "All right! I said I'm sorry!"

Ianto just shook his head in disbelief at Jack's carelessness. "Basic security protocols, sir."

Jack glared back at him but then walked over to stand by his side, his expression shifting from anger to something closer to shame. "Looks like that body wasn't a warning. More of a decoy."

Ianto nodded in agreement. "So, we've been watched since we arrived."

"Yeah." Jack moved closer and peered over his shoulder. "Can you get a tracking signal?"

Ianto glanced up at Jack and then pointed to the results on his screen. "Already done, sir. It's currently three-point-five miles west from here. It's been stationary for the past four minutes. I'd go so far as to say it was parked."

Ianto pulled the map from his bag and passed it to the other man. Jack opened it out and studied it for a moment. "There's a small village in that area. Other than that, nothing for thirty miles."

Ianto was trying valiantly to push back his growing sense of panic. They were alone in the middle of nowhere, with no transportation and no one to even call for help. He was just glad they still had their weapons, phones, and his scanner. At least they weren't entirely helpless and defenceless. "Call me suspicious, but this has all the hallmarks of a trap."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing." He gestured towards the road and the direction the SUV had been taken. "Fancy a walk?"

###

After hiking for almost three miles, Ianto wasn't in the best of moods. He was tired and thirsty, and still mad about Jack's mistake of leaving the SUV unlocked with the keys inside. He was also growing increasingly worried about what they might literally be walking into. They'd reached the top of a hill and there was a derelict looking building in the distance in front of them.

"Has the SUV moved?" Jack asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Ianto glanced down at the scanner and then checked his watch. "Not for an hour now."

Jack pulled out his gun and watched as Ianto did the same. "Let's go. We need to follow that signal and find the SUV. If there's any sign of trouble, I want you to stay behind me and get to cover. Okay?"

Ianto nodded. "Understood."

They headed down the hill and towards the building. It was a long, stone structure, with a large double wooden door at the front, a grey gravel driveway leading up to it, and there was an old, heavily rusted tractor parked off to one side.

Ianto checked his scanner again. He pointed his gun towards another ramshackle building positioned on a grassy slope to the right of where they were standing. "Up there."

Jack looked determined. "Right, let's get the SUV back and find out who took it."

They followed along a low stone wall up to the other building. Reaching the front door, Jack tried to open it, but discovered it was locked. Ianto peered around anxiously. He was just about to ask Jack if he was going to attempt to break down the door when a loud, spine-chilling scream filled the air.

They both looked around wildly, trying to determine the direction of the sound. "What the hell was that?" Jack demanded.

"Just a... fox or something?" Ianto replied, knowing it was a lame suggestion even before the words left his mouth. "Check around the back?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

With Jack taking the lead, they moved around the side of the building. Ianto kept glancing behind them, his body tense and infused with a surge of adrenaline, his senses on high alert. They eventually reached a back door and Ianto tried to ignore the row of rotting animal carcases hanging on the wall beside it. He felt distinctly uneasy and he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched. Another anguished scream filled the air just as Jack reached for the door handle.

Spinning around, Ianto took several steps forward, his gun held out in front of him as he tried to locate where the sound was coming from. There was a substantial shed-like structure in his line of sight, almost hidden by a dense cluster of low-lying trees, a short distance from the house. He wondered if the SUV might be inside or hidden behind it.

"Jack, I think we should..." he began, glancing over his shoulder to check what the other man was doing.

Jack wasn't there.

Ianto looked around rapidly as a wave of panic threatened to overtake him. He tried the door but it was locked. "Jack!" he called out desperately.

Looking around for any sign of the other man, a flash of movement at the far end of the building caught the corner of his eye. Taking a deep breath, his heartbeat pounding furiously in his ears, his gun clenched vice-like in his hands, Ianto moved forward to investigate. "Jack!" he shouted again.

Reaching the end of the wall, he peeked around the corner, but found nothing. Taking another deep breath and willing himself to remain calm, he took a tentative step forward.

There was another blur of movement and before Ianto could react, he was roughly shoved forward. He fell heavily to the ground with a gasp of surprise, the impact jarring the entire length of his body. In his involuntary attempt to break the fall with his hands, his gun had been dislodged from his grip, landing on the ground just beyond his reach.

A dark hooded figure loomed over him. Frantically reaching forward to retrieve his weapon, Ianto's fingers found the edge of the barrel. Then there was a blinding flash of pain to the back of his skull, and the world went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** I'm posting this chapter quite a bit earlier than planned - the only way I can stop fiddling with it is to go ahead and post. I hope it's okay. Please review and let me know if you enjoy it. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks once again to the very generous and patient Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and advice.

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**Chapter Eight**

_**January 13th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto groaned deeply as he returned to consciousness. He found he was curled up on his side, a cold, unforgiving stone floor beneath him. Chilled to the core, his extremities felt as if they'd been dipped in ice water, his body ached all over, and his skull throbbed painfully. Blinking several times, he tried to focus his eyes in the shadowy light. As his mind recalled the events leading up to being attacked, he was filled with a sense of desperate panic. Forcing himself upright, he groaned again as a wave of disorientation washed over him. He pressed his eyes closed, hoping it would pass quickly.

"Hey, easy there, Ianto," a reassuringly familiar voice said gently. "You've had a nasty blow to the back of your head."

Opening his eyes and blinking again, Ianto glanced around the strange, dark surroundings. It appeared to be a small, dank cellar. His stomach churned as putrid, stale air assaulted his nostrils. Turning his head, he found Jack sitting on the floor at his side, his knees pulled up to his chest, and watching him with an expression of concern.

"Jack!" he gasped, relieved beyond measure to see the other man again. "You okay?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, fine. Bastards got the jump on me."

Tentatively reaching up to touch the back of his pounding head, Ianto shuffled closer to Jack. A sizeable lump had formed where he'd been struck and rendered unconscious, but as far as he could tell, he was otherwise uninjured. He peered carefully at Jack, but he couldn't see any sign of injury. The man seemed to be almost impossibly resilient.

"This is why I don't like camping," Ianto quipped half-heartedly, shivering involuntarily from the cold.

He looked around the dimly lit space. Dull, late afternoon light trickled in through a small, dirty skylight window in the ceiling. He noted it was too small for either of them to squeeze through, even if they could reach it and scale it to the top. There was also no sign of their guns or his rucksack.

"They took our guns," Jack murmured, confirming his assessment.

"Charming place they've got." Ianto struggled slowly to his feet and moved over to the door on the opposite side of the room. "Judging by the sound reverberations and the air quality, pretty deep underground." He turned to look at Jack. "What were they?"

Jack stared up at him for a moment, but he didn't answer his question. "Ianto, come and sit down. Conserve your strength," he said instead.

Ignoring him, Ianto continued to explore. He found a metal chute near the door. Touching it gingerly, he pulled his hand back and found it was smeared with blood. Horrified, he pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket, and cleaned his hand as best he could. "That body we saw... in the forest," he muttered, trying to piece it all together in his mind.

Looking down at the filthy floor, he spotted a shoe. Kneeling to look closer, he realised there were dozens on shoes in a large pile, accompanied by various articles of dirty, discarded clothing.

"Oh, my God..." he whispered, his stomach twisting as he realised he and Jack were merely the latest in a long line of victims. Presumably, every one of them had been brought to the cellar, and had ended up like the remains they'd found in the woods.

Standing up again, Ianto turned back to the door and examined it. "Got to be three steel bolts. Top, middle, and bottom." He glanced back over at Jack. "How are you at calculating target stress points? Find the weakest point, bit of brute force..."

Reaching up, he grabbed hold of an overhanging pipe to brace himself and kicked repeatedly at the door, but it refused to budge.

"Nice thought," Jack said a moment later. "But it's reinforced."

Ianto growled in frustration, but not ready to give up, he moved to the adjacent wall where there appeared to be another door. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a refrigerator. He glanced at Jack again. "What's in here?"

Jack shook his head. "Ianto, don't."

Ianto paused from pulling the door open. "Jack, what is it? What's in there?"

Rising to his feet, Jack moved to stand in front of him. "You don't want to look in there. Trust me."

"Tell me!" Ianto insisted, glaring at him defiantly. "I want to know."

Jack looked like he was about to argue further, but then he simply stepped aside. Ianto reached forward and determinedly opened the door. He stared in horror, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening, as his stomach lurched violently. The refrigerator was filled with body parts... human body parts. Some were wrapped in plastic, while others were in jars, the rest just sitting on the shelves without any covering. Gasping with shock, Ianto quickly slammed the door shut and turned to face Jack.

"That's why there was nothing left on the body," Jack said quietly. "They need to eat."

Ianto stood rigid and stared at him aghast, his mind reeling, struggling to process what he'd just seen. It was more horrible than anything he could have imagined.

"We're not dealing with aliens here," Jack added in little more than a whisper. "I saw them. They're human. And we're their food."

Ianto stepped back, shaking his head violently. Aliens he could handle, but this was something more monstrous and sickening than he could comprehend. "No... no, that's insane."

Jack moved closer and rested his hands on Ianto's shoulders, squeezing gently. "It's going to be okay. When they come for us, I'll find a way to distract them... give you a chance to make a run for it... get yourself to safety. You need to be ready when I make my move."

Ianto shook his head again. "No. I'm not leaving you."

Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's shoulders. "Ianto, that's an order. I expect you to do as I say. I can take care of myself."

Ianto wanted to argue, but he understood Jack's reasoning. If one of them could manage to escape, they could at least try to get help. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

Jack relaxed his grip and ushered him over to where they'd been sitting earlier. "You're shivering. Come and sit down. Here this should help." Taking off his greatcoat, he wrapped it around Ianto's shoulders as they sat down again.

"You're cold too," Ianto protested, noticing Jack was shivering slightly.

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not." Ianto shuffled closer and managed to drape Jack's coat around both of them.

Jack wrapped his arm around Ianto's waist, pulling him close against his side. Under any other circumstances, Ianto might have pulled away and protested about the inappropriateness of the gesture, but he was just grateful for the comfort and reassurance Jack was offering. Jack's body felt warm and strong against his own, and most importantly, it felt safe. Ianto was certain that if they had any chance of getting out of this alive, it would be because of Jack.

"You've been in worse situations than this, right?" he asked a few moments later, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to generate some warmth.

"Yeah, plenty of times." Jack chuckled slightly, but it was obviously forced. "This is just a slow day at the office for me."

While Ianto appreciated Jack's attempt at joviality, he wondered if he would have preferred for Jack to be completely honest. There was no denying they were in serious trouble.

"Don't you ever wonder how long you can survive before you go mad... or get killed... or..." He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. He knew Jack had lost people to Torchwood, people who had probably been his friends, and whom he'd cared about.

"It's worth the risk," Jack stated calmly. "To protect people. This is what we do."

"And who protects us?" Ianto blurted out, his fear getting the better of him.

Jack breathed out a sigh. "Ianto, this is Torchwood. This is what you wanted to be a part of. It's what you signed up for."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't entirely a lie either, and he'd actively chosen to ignore Jack's warnings. He realised how foolish and naive he'd been in his excitement over accompanying Jack on the trip. He'd wanted to prove himself, to show Jack he was a valuable and trustworthy colleague, but instead he'd failed miserably. Not that it mattered now, since it was quite possible they wouldn't live to see another day. "You're right," he murmured regretfully. "Sorry."

Jack tightened his grip, pulling Ianto closer. "It's okay, Ianto," he said with surprising gentleness. "It's gonna be okay."

Grateful he wasn't alone, and unable to shake the overwhelming thought that these might be the final moments of his life, Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack, clinging to him unashamedly. It was the first time he'd felt the warmth and contact of another person since Lisa, and despite the horrendous circumstances, he realised how much he'd missed it.

Resting his head on Jack's shoulder, Ianto breathed in the man's familiar scent, drawing comfort from it. Jack pulled him close against his chest, and Ianto felt Jack's head rest against his own. He desperately hoped Jack was right.

###

"Someone's coming," Jack whispered, startling Ianto back to full alertness as the heavy sounds of bolts being unlocked reached their ears.

They jumped to their feet, and Jack quickly pulled his coat back on. He moved to stand to the side of the door, motioning for Ianto to stand behind him. As the door swung inwards, Jack threw himself at it, sending it flying backwards. A surprised yelp of pain came from someone on the other side. Leaping forward, Jack pulled the door open again, and Ianto watched in dismay as a shotgun was immediately levelled at Jack's chest. Jack raised his hands as an unruly, middle-aged woman with lank, dirty blonde hair glared at him. A younger, scrawny looking man was picking himself up off the ground, muttering angrily.

"I've been sent to collect you. I've got to take you to them," the woman said.

"Tell us what's going on," Ianto demanded, his anger momentarily overriding his fear. He raised his arms as the scrawny man recovered and pointed his shotgun at him. "Why are you doing this?"

The woman laughed in a manner bordering on hysteria. "No one's safe. Every ten years... it takes us again."

"What takes you?" Jack asked in an authoritative voice. "What is it?"

"The Harvest," the woman replied with a crazed smile, as if the answer was entirely obvious.

Jack started to move forward, but he stopped when the man leered and jabbed his gun at Ianto's chest.

"No, please," the woman said. "You have to come with us."

After their hands had been tied roughly behind their backs, they were herded at gunpoint towards the larger building they'd found earlier. Ianto tried to remain calm and stayed close to Jack's side, hoping he had a plan.

"In there," the woman said, opening the rear door.

They were pushed into a room where a plastic sheet had been hung from the ceiling to the floor. A large tear ran down the middle of the sheet which they were roughly pushed through.

Ianto stared around in horror. "Oh God, that stench..." he muttered, glancing at Jack who also looked sickened by the sight before them.

There was blood everywhere. Bodies wrapped in plastic hung from hooks on the ceiling along each wall. A huge chopping board was in the centre of the room, surrounded by numerous body parts in glass jars.

Another man appeared, grinning at them, while the scrawny man moved off through a doorway into another room. This new man was older, easily in his fifties, with untidy, grey, thinning hair. "How are they, Helen?" he asked the woman.

"They're in a good state," she replied, and the man's grin widened. "Evan, I think they're the best we've ever had."

Ianto cried out as Evan grabbed his right upper arm from behind and kicked the back of his knees, sending him crashing to the floor. Ianto groaned in pain and looked up fearfully at Jack, who was glaring at Evan with a murderous glint in his eyes.

"Leave him alone!" Jack shouted angrily.

"He's meat," Evan replied indifferently, turning to Jack and punching him hard in the stomach, causing him to gasp and fall to the floor beside Ianto. "I'm afraid we're all just meat."

Breathing hard, Jack leaned closer to Ianto. "Get ready," he whispered as they looked up to see Helen pass a bloodied baseball bat to the other man.

"What're you going to do, put us on meat hooks?" Jack asked in a defiant tone, taunting them.

"No, not yet." Evan smiled malevolently, revealing a mouthful of brown, broken teeth. "You see... meat has to be tenderised first."

Ianto felt a chill of terror as he realised what the monsters had in store for them next. He doubted they'd survive the beating, and Jack was looking at him with a mixture of fear and worry. Jack gave him an almost imperceptible nod, then turned to Evan and grinned up at him challengingly.

With lighting speed, Jack leapt to his feet and slammed his head directly into the man's forehead. As Evan reeled backwards, wavering unsteadily, Jack kneed him brutally in the stomach, toppling him to the floor. Pivoting around, Jack then kicked out at the woman's legs, also sending her crashing to the floor. "Go!" Jack yelled.

Ianto leapt to his feet and started running. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Jack try to follow, but Evan grabbed at Jack's leg, causing him to stumble and land heavily on the floor, his bound hands preventing him from breaking his fall. Ianto paused uncertainly, wanting to go back and help Jack.

"Ianto, go!" Jack cried, struggling to his feet just before Evan punched him viciously across the jaw, sending him sprawling again. Evan turned to glare furiously at Ianto.

Ianto turned away and ran from the building, heart pounding wildly, and breathing hard as he struggled to draw oxygen into his lungs. Dashing around to hide behind the grey tractor, he stooped out of sight as he tried to decide what to do next. With his hands bound and without a weapon, he was at a definite disadvantage, and he doubted he'd be able to outrun their captors in a foot chase. Plus, he didn't know how many more of them were out there. As much as he hated leaving Jack behind, he knew he had to use his escape to their advantage. He prayed they wouldn't beat Jack to death first, or slit his throat and hang him up to bleed. Shuddering violently at the thought, he resolved he wasn't going to let that happen.

He watched as Evan and the younger man left the building, but they went in the opposite direction, heading towards another building. Taking a deep breath, Ianto took off again, running up the hill and towards the outbuilding he'd seen earlier.

###

Ianto almost cried with relief when, a few minutes later, he found the SUV, intact, unlocked, and with the keys dangling from the ignition. It had been abandoned on the far side of the outbuilding, hidden beneath several low-lying trees. It was the first stroke of good fortune they'd had all day.

The next half-hour became a strange blur of events as Ianto's mind seemed to shift, his training taking over, an inner resilience coming to the fore he'd never known he possessed.

Awkwardly retrieving a utility knife from the supplies in the back of the SUV, he managed to cut through the rope restraining his hands, and then armed himself with a Torchwood issue stun-gun. He took cover behind the SUV as he heard two men approach, obviously searching for him. One was the man from the cellar, the other was a similar age, probably mid-twenties, Ianto guessed, and dressed in a police uniform. Straining to listen to their conversation, he was shocked to learn the police officer was also a member of the cult.

The men made the mistake of splitting up, giving Ianto the upper hand. Sneaking up on the first man, he managed to disarm him with a couple of well placed kicks and punches. Slamming the man head first into the side of the SUV, Ianto discharged the stun-gun at its highest setting against the man's forehead, rendering him unconscious. The second man met a similar fate, and after he'd restrained both men and dragged their bodies behind the building, Ianto grabbed their shotguns and climbed into the SUV.

With a roar of the engine, he took off towards the main building where Jack was being held. Fuelled by a mix of adrenaline, fury and outrage, his only thought was on rescuing Jack.

Ramming the SUV through the doors at the front of the building with a deafening crash of splintering wood, Ianto leap from the vehicle and quickly stunned two villagers who were reeling in confusion from the sudden intrusion. Pocketing the stun-gun and readying one of the shotguns, he steeled himself and made his way into the room from earlier. He immediately spotted Helen reaching for her gun. Ianto aimed at her leg and fired, causing her to collapse to the floor, groaning as blood poured from her knee.

Ianto turned to Evan, levelling the shotgun at him. The man was looking around in shock, but he had a grip on a severely battered but struggling Jack, a large knife held to his throat. Although sickened by the sight of Jack's brutalised state, Ianto was relieved beyond words that the Captain was still alive.

"Let him go," Ianto ordered.

Evan looked completely deranged. "You're ruining everything!" he screamed, his eyes moving around wildly.

Jack threw himself backwards and a struggle ensued between the two men. Unable to get a clear shot, Ianto rushed forward to help, but he was a moment too late. Time seemed to stand still, and he looked on in silent horror as the man thrust his knife into Jack's abdomen, causing Jack to gasp and collapse onto the floor. Ianto leap forward and struck the butt of his shotgun brutally against Evan's skull, producing a loud bone-crunching sound as the man fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Jack!" Ianto gasped, kneeling down to help him.

"Ianto, get me out of here." Jack grasped Ianto's hand, squeezing it hard and looking up at him intently. "It's gonna be okay," he murmured in between ragged breaths.

Ianto helped Jack to his feet and quickly untied his hands. "Restrain them, and get our weapons and equipment," Jack mumbled thickly, pressing his hand to his stomach wound and leaning heavily against Ianto for support.

Ianto nodded numbly. After helping Jack into the SUV, he hurriedly tied up the four villagers, and grabbed his rucksack and their guns from the table at the side of the room Jack had indicated.

Tossing the equipment in the back seat, Ianto retrieved the SUV's first-aid kit, pulled out some heavy bandages, and tentatively inspected Jack's wound. He knew it was bad. Jack was pale and bleeding profusely, and his entire torso was severely bloodied and bruised. He suspected Jack had broken ribs along with other internal damage. "Oh God, Jack," he whispered, feeling helpless and panic-stricken.

"Go, Ianto," Jack muttered. "Now."

Willing himself to stay focused, Ianto drove away from the village as fast as he dared, glancing regularly at the other man. Jack had lost a lot of blood, he was breathing erratically, and his pale, clammy, bruised face was contorted in pain.

"Hang on, Jack," Ianto pleaded, increasing their speed as he tried to remember how close the nearest hospital was, but knowing it was going to be too far away. "I'm going to get you some help."

Jack didn't respond. His eyes slipped closed, and his head lolled to the side.

"Jack!" Ianto shouted desperately. "No! No, no, no, no..."

Pulling the SUV over to the side of the road, Ianto frantically reached over to check Jack's pulse. Choking back a sob of despair, it only took him a moment to realise that Jack was dead.

###

Ianto couldn't have said how long he sat numbly in the SUV, Jack's lifeless body on the seat next to him, both Jack and the seat drenched in blood. He was shaking uncontrollably, he didn't know what to do, and some small part of his mind registered that he was going into shock.

Looking at Jack's ashen features, he realised how important the man had become to him. He buried his face in his hands, tears welling up in his eyes and dampening his face and fingers. Jack had sacrificed himself, he'd given his life so Ianto could have a chance to escape. Jack had been counting on him, it had been his job to save Jack, and he'd failed. He couldn't imagine being able to endure the guilt of his failure... if he'd just focused on taking out that deranged bastard first, Jack would still be alive.

He jumped and almost slammed his head into the roof when an anguished, shuddering gasp filled the air. Jack lurched forward, his eyes springing open. Looking around with an expression of sheer panic, his gaze settled on Ianto, who was staring back at him incredulously, his mouth hanging open.

"Ianto," Jack said, breathing rapidly, but with relief evident in his voice. "You okay?"

"Jack?" Ianto stared at him dumbly, a part of his brain noting that Jack's injuries appeared to have vanished. "What... how..." He shook his head in disbelief, wondering if he was dreaming, or if this was some sort of bizarre stress-induced hallucination. "You were dead. I watched you die."

"Yes, you did." Jack sounded resigned, his blood-stained features set in a tired, grim mask. "But I have this problem... I can't die. Or more accurately, I can die, but I can't stay dead."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** I'm spoiling you all with chapters this week. :-) Enjoy! Thanks as always to the wonderfully talented Prothrombintime for encouragement and feedback.**  
**

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**Chapter Nine**

_**January 13th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto sat silently in the passenger seat of the SUV, his head resting against the cool glass of the window as the dark Welsh countryside sped past. He had some fond memories of trips to the Brecon Beacons as a child, but he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to see the rugged landscape again. After the events of the past twelve hours, he was physically exhausted and emotionally shattered. Now they were safe and the nightmare was finally over, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and banish his memories of the day to the furthest corner of his mind.

He glanced over at Jack. The older man had his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, his pale, drawn face set in a grim, steely mask. Jack had contacted the Cardiff police, succinctly explained the situation, including the involvement of at least one police officer, and organised for the villagers to be rounded up and dealt with. Meanwhile, Ianto had done the best he could to clean up Jack's blood from himself, Jack, and the SUV's interior. With Torchwood's involvement in the matter at an end, Jack had wasted no time in steering the SUV southwards and beginning their journey home.

Ianto's weary mind was a confused maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. He had so many questions, he didn't know where to even begin. He wasn't sure if Jack would answer any of them anyway. The Captain had been withdrawn and silent since his startling revelation, and like Ianto, he was clearly shaken and shell-shocked by the horror of the day's events. Jack's complete lack of bravado seemed to be testament to how deeply unsettled he really was.

For Ianto, Jack's death and subsequent resurrection had shaken him to his very core. As impossible as it still seemed, he'd witnessed it with his own eyes, and the discovery was beginning to bring together the pieces of the puzzle that was Jack Harkness. Jack was literally the man who couldn't die. It was inconceivable, fascinating, and horrifying all at once.

The rest of the journey was a confused blur. It was only when they'd arrived back in Cardiff, and Jack had stopped the SUV outside of the apartment building, that Ianto finally broke out of his troubled reverie.

"Get some rest, Ianto," Jack said quietly, turning to face him. "Take the morning off, the whole day if you like... whatever you want. And call me if you need anything."

Ianto nodded absently in response as he unfastened his seatbelt. "Are you... are you okay?" he asked Jack tentatively.

"I'm okay." Jack's voice was detached and devoid of emotion. "I'm always okay."

Not knowing what to say, Ianto just nodded again. He felt a deep desire to somehow offer comfort to the other man, but he didn't know how to go about doing it, or if it would be well received. Resigned for the time being, he turned to open the door, but Jack rested a hand on his knee, causing him to pause and look back at the other man curiously.

"You did a good job today, Ianto, and under very difficult circumstances. I'm proud of you." Regret flashed across Jack's features as he looked at Ianto with what seemed like a mixture of sadness and apology. "And I'm sorry you had to find out about me like that. I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

"Not your fault," Ianto said gently, resting his hand over Jack's for a moment. He felt the warmth and strength of Jack's hand beneath his own, and still found it difficult to believe that only hours earlier the same hand had been cold and lifeless. "I don't suppose it's the easiest conversation to have... telling someone about your..." He paused, unsure of how to describe Jack's unique ability. "Your... um... condition."

"No," Jack agreed, his eyes lowering. He looked more uncertain and vulnerable than Ianto had ever seen him before. "No, it's not."

Ianto nodded once more, giving Jack a small smile, and hoping it offered some tiny amount of reassurance. Reaching to grab his rucksack from where he'd thrown it onto the back seat, he climbed out of the SUV and closed the door. He stood at the building's entrance and watched as the SUV moved off down the darkened street, eventually disappearing from sight.

Entering his apartment, Ianto immediately dumped his rucksack on the floor beside the door and kicked off his shoes. He retrieved an empty garbage bag from the kitchen and threw the shoes into it. Moving through the apartment, flicking on lights as he went to banish the gloom, he reached the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the water was almost scalding. He roughly stripped off the rest of his clothes, emptying his pockets onto the vanity bench-top before throwing the garments into the garbage bag. The stomach churning stench of that awful place seemed to permeate every fibre of the fabrics and he just wanted to be rid of them. Tying off the bag, he tossed it out the bathroom door, intending to dispose of it in the morning.

Standing naked in front of the narrow mirror, steam quickly filling the small space, he stared at his reflection, noting the lifeless, haunted look in his usually expressive blue-grey eyes. His face was unnaturally pale, almost white, and the skin was stained with a layer of tears, dirt, and sweat. He turned his head to the side and saw a broad smear of red down the side of his neck. It was blood... Jack's blood.

He felt physically ill as he thought about what Jack had endured, of how Jack had sacrificed himself in order to give him a chance to escape. Jack had been beaten to within an inch of his life, brutally stabbed, and had then died a slow, painful death. Then he'd come back to life, healed and seemingly whole once more. Although Jack was physically healed, Ianto couldn't begin to imagine the toll that degree of trauma took on a person's psyche. He still felt responsible, and the guilt gnawed at him for leaving Jack behind, even though he'd been following orders. It might have been the necessary thing to do, but it had still been an unconscionable choice he'd had to make. Pressing his eyes closed, he began to tremble uncontrollably.

He spent the next half-hour in the shower, washing his hair repeatedly, cleaning every inch of skin over and over until it was pink and sore. Drying himself off roughly, he crawled into his bed and curled himself into a tight ball under the covers.

Sobbing quietly, he eventually drifted into a restless sleep.

###

Ianto stood just beyond the door of the Millennium Centre's roof access as he observed the solitary, shadowy figure standing at the south-east edge of the massive curved roof, the familiar coattails billowing gently in the chilly morning breeze. Shivering, Ianto turned up the collar of his wool overcoat and slowly made his way across the copper-coloured steel cladding, his leather shoes echoing dully with each step. It was nearly eight a.m., only minutes before daybreak, and the veil of darkness was slowly receding from the sky as the sun edged closer to the horizon.

He'd slept fitfully, his mind haunted by visions of the horrors of the day before. He was certain it would be quite some time before he'd sleep peacefully again. After waking early, he'd showered again, dressed in a blue shirt and tie and one of his more sombre suits, and readied himself to face the day. The silent emptiness of the apartment had felt stifling, and he'd decided he needed his familiar routine to keep his mind distracted. He'd walked briskly to the Hub since his car was still parked there from the morning before. There had been no sign of Jack when he'd arrived, so he'd phoned the older man, ostensibly to check if everything was all right. To his surprise, he'd received succinct instructions on accessing the rooftop of the nearby Millennium Centre.

He came to a stop several metres behind Jack. The older man was standing perilously close to the edge and given the steep downward slope, Ianto didn't feel safe going any further. He'd never been particularly fond of heights.

After a minute or so, Jack turned and walked back to stand beside him, much to Ianto's relief. He certainly wasn't in any hurry to see Jack die again, especially from an accident that could have been easily avoided. He found himself wondering if Jack had ever willingly taken his own life, perhaps in a moment of weakness or overwhelming loneliness. He shuddered inwardly at the thought, not sure if he wanted to know. Although he didn't understand how Jack's condition worked and if there were limits to his ability to revive from death, he wondered what it would feel like to know that no matter how bad things became, there was no escape and no way out.

"Didn't think I'd see you this early," Jack said, looking at him with dull, troubled eyes which Ianto was sure matched his own.

Ianto sighed and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. "Had trouble sleeping."

"Me too," Jack murmured, returning his gaze to the horizon. "I don't sleep very much. With what I've seen, maybe that's a good thing."

Ianto thought about the clues he'd discovered in the archives, hinting that Jack had been working with Torchwood for at least a hundred years. "Do you come up here often?" he asked after a moment.

Jack shrugged. "I suppose. It helps to give me some perspective, focus my thoughts... reminds me what we're fighting for. Especially after a day like yesterday."

"I keep thinking about those people," Ianto began tentatively, also feeling desperately in need of some perspective. "No, they weren't people... they were monsters. They weren't aliens following their instinctual nature, like Weevils... they were human... just like us." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm trying to understand it, but I... Jack, I can't."

"I don't think we're meant to understand it. That's what makes us different." Jack's voice was quiet and pensive. "There's great evil in the world, Ianto. There always has been, and there always will be. It's one of the constants of the universe. That's what we saw yesterday... pure, unadulterated evil. But there's great good out there too. It can be easy to forget that with this job. We have to remember that the good outweighs the evil. That's what we fight for."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. "I won't forget," he said with determination he wasn't sure he felt. "You've been doing this a long time, haven't you?"

Jack turned his head and looked at him appraisingly. "You've spent a lot of time working in the archives. I assumed you'd find something sooner or later. How much do you know?"

It was Ianto's turn to shrug. "Not much. Just that you've been involved with Torchwood for at least a hundred years."

Jack turned away again. "I was recruited in 1899. I've done some other things along the way, fought in some wars, taken a few sabbaticals, but I've always come back." He drew in a deep breath. "Something happened to me a while back. It's a long story, and it happened far away from here. I was killed, and then I was brought back to life, and ever since then... well, you saw it for yourself last night."

With his suspicions about Jack's exceptionally long life confirmed, Ianto tried to comprehend how much Jack had seen and experienced, the countless horrors Jack must have witnessed, and how many people he'd known and lost. His heart ached for the pain and loneliness Jack had undoubtedly endured, and would continue to endure. While many people feared and fought against the ruthless inevitability of death, it seemed to him that life without an endpoint was infinitely worse. He couldn't see it as anything other than a terrible curse.

"How does it work?" he asked softly, wanting to understand how Jack's ability to cheat death was possible.

"Honestly, I don't know. There's someone who might be able to explain it. Maybe he can fix me. I'll find him one day, but until then..." Jack's voice trailed off as his eyes shifted upwards, gazing to the heavens.

"How... uh..." Ianto paused awkwardly. He had so many questions he wanted to ask Jack, but he didn't want to push too hard. He hoped that Jack was beginning to see him more as a useful colleague, and less as an unwelcome annoyance, and he didn't want to jeopardise that. The fact that he was standing beside Jack with his memories intact suggested that Jack actually did trust him, at least to a point. Jack could have easily retconned him, removing the last twenty-four hours of his memories, if he'd thought Ianto was a threat to him. Ianto was under no illusions that Jack could be ruthless enough to do it if necessary. "How many times have you died?" he asked hesitantly.

"I lost count after a while." The tone of detachment had returned to Jack's voice. "Dozens of times... sixty or seventy, maybe... probably more. Kind of freaks people out. Working for Torchwood isn't the safest of professions."

"No, it's not," Ianto agreed, an awful coldness twisting at his stomach as he struggled not to imagine the ways Jack might have died while working for Torchwood. He recalled how painful it had seemed when Jack came back to life. "Does it hurt? When you come back?"

Jack nodded. "Like being hauled over broken glass."

A shiver ran down Ianto's spine from Jack's succinct but graphic description. He didn't want to keep pushing Jack for details, but there was one more question he was too curious about to let go. "So, um... Jack... how old are you then? I mean, if you've worked for Torchwood for a hundred and four years..."

To Ianto's surprise, Jack smiled at him. It was a small, weary sort of smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I was thirty-six, almost thirty-seven when I died the first time. I've been this way since 1869."

Ianto nodded, surprising himself by his ready acceptance of the astonishing fact. There was obviously a lot more to Jack's story, but he doubted he'd find out much more for the moment. That would take time, and more trust than they'd built thus far. "Well, you seem to be holding up pretty well for a one-hundred and seventy year old," he said jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood. "You don't look a day over forty."

"Hey!" Jack abruptly turned to him, scowling in outrage. "I can easily pass for thirty-five."

Ianto smirked, amused by Jack's vanity. "Whatever you say, sir."

Silence settled between them as they both stared out into the distance, the sky slowly brightening as the blanket of deep purple became tinged with fiery red and orange.

"I understand why you didn't tell me," Ianto said a few moments later, becoming serious again. "But I want you to know, your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Jack murmured. "I should have told you. I suppose I just didn't want you to look at me differently."

"Why would I do that?" Ianto asked, looking at Jack in surprise and wondering why Jack would care what he thought of him.

"Most people who have found out do," Jack replied, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "They think I'm wrong... a freak... a travesty of nature."

Ianto felt his eyes widen in shock. Jack was a lot of things, and he could be a right pain in the arse at times, but Ianto could never imagine thinking of him as being wrong. He edged closer to Jack, feeling strangely protective of the older man. "You're not wrong, Jack," he said firmly. "This terrible thing happened to you, but it wasn't your fault. Besides, I'm not most people."

"No, Ianto." Jack smiled at him with what almost seemed like affection in his blue eyes. "No, you're not."

Ianto returned Jack's smile, and silence settled between them again as they gazed out to the skyline, now awash with a brilliant orange glow.

"Sun's coming up," Jack murmured as the sun finally began to peek above the horizon. Ianto felt the older man's hand rest gently on his shoulder.

"It's beautiful," Ianto whispered.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed standing on the rooftop together, admiring the spectacular beginning of the new day. Despite what they'd just been through, and everything he'd learned about Jack, it was a brief but perfect moment. It was one he suspected he'd look back on during other difficult times that were undoubtedly ahead.

Jack sighed, dropping his hand from Ianto's shoulder as he turned away from the captivating view. "Come on then, Mr. Jones. Work to do." His features seemed to relax and a hopeful glimmer reawakened in his eyes. "Any chance of some of your fabulous coffee?"

Ianto nodded, feeling a little more ready to face the day, and comforted by the simplicity and familiarity of Jack's request. "I think that can be arranged, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. Hope you all enjoy this one. Special thanks to Prothrombintime for unwavering encouragement, feedback, and invaluable suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_**March 20th, 2004**_

Ianto walked wearily into Jack's office carrying the last round of coffee for the day. Putting their mugs down on the desk, he eased himself into his chair opposite Jack, and took a sip of his coffee as he rubbed distractedly at the back of his neck.

Jack glanced up from the report he was reading, a lacklustre smile ghosting his lips. "Thanks, Ianto."

Ianto nodded in acknowledgement as he studied the other man's tired features. The demands on Torchwood Three had been seemingly relentless for the last two months. Since the Brecon Beacons, Rift activity had been higher than normal, and Jack had been run off his feet dealing with one crisis after another. Ianto had tried his best to assist and support the Captain, but after three weeks of long hours without a day off, he was feeling the strain too.

Finally, it looked like things were settling down, giving them a much needed reprieve. Ianto was looking forward to his day off tomorrow and some uninterrupted rest. He wanted nothing more than to sprawl on his sofa for the entire day, but he had a mountain of laundry awaiting his attention, the apartment was overdue for a thorough cleaning, and his refrigerator and pantry were in desperate need of replenishing. However, he was more concerned about Jack than his own relatively inconsequential needs.

"You need a break, Jack," he said, keeping his voice soft and non-confrontational.

Jack took a sip of coffee, rubbed his hand over his face, and breathed out a heavy sigh. "The Rift doesn't give days off. I need to be here. I need to be ready for whatever comes along next."

It was a familiar argument. Ianto had tried to convince Jack several times that they needed to recruit some additional staff – field operatives in particular, although he thought a technical specialist and a medical officer wouldn't go astray either – but Jack continued to stubbornly refuse. He also refused to allow Ianto to help him in the field. The situation was rapidly becoming untenable, but each time Ianto attempted to broach the subject, Jack became distant and ill-tempered. Jack never offered any explanation, but Ianto suspected the trauma of losing the Torchwood Three team at the turn of the century continued to haunt Jack and rule his decisions. He seemed fiercely determined to do everything himself rather than put anyone else in harm's way. Additionally, Jack was almost pathologically distrustful. In all fairness Ianto couldn't blame him for that, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

Beyond the heavy workload and his gradual recovery from the trauma of the Beacons incident, Ianto was pleased that he and Jack had settled into an amiable working relationship. Since learning Jack's secret, Ianto felt deep compassion for the other man, but he knew the last thing Jack would want was his pity. So, he tried to pay more attention to taking care of Jack, subtly doing anything he could think of to make Jack's life just that little bit easier and less stressful.

Whenever possible, he'd sit with Jack in the mornings as they drank their coffee, and they'd talk about mostly trivial things. Jack had started to open up a little, regaling Ianto with various outrageous tales of his past exploits. Jack knew how to tell an entertaining story and Ianto thoroughly enjoyed the older man's company. He'd also noticed that Jack was seeking out his advice more frequently, seeming to genuinely value his opinion. Although Jack could still be unpredictable, moody and distant at times, for the most part they'd developed what Ianto liked to think of as a comfortable mutual respect and comradery.

He sighed, knowing Jack was right, but unwilling to give up quite so easily. "How about a compromise then?" he suggested as inspiration suddenly struck.

Jack narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "What sort of compromise?"

"Take the evening off." Ianto looked at Jack uncertainly, trying to gauge his reaction. "You could come over to the apartment... pizza, drinks, we can watch a film or two... I'll even buy us some dessert."

Jack's eyebrows lifted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair. "Why, Ianto Jones, are you asking me out on a date?"

Ianto rolled his eyes dramatically. "No. Absolutely not. Definitely not a date. Just two..." He paused hesitantly. "Two friends enjoying a relaxing evening together."

Ianto bit down on his lower lip nervously. He was half-expecting Jack to make a pointed comment about his use of the word 'friends' to describe them. Ianto liked to think it was what they were, or at least on their way to becoming, but he wasn't sure if Jack felt the same way. To his surprise, Jack was just looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

"I've gotta say, it sounds tempting. One condition though, can I bring my DVD's? I haven't had a chance to watch any episodes of my show this week." Jack's expression somehow managed to achieve the perfect mix of sulkiness and hopeful pleading.

Ianto struggled not to groan. To his horror, he'd recently discovered the Captain was in a twentieth-century pop-culture phase, with his current obsession being the American television show 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.' He'd caught Jack watching it one evening when he'd been working late in the archives. Returning to the main level of the Hub, he'd found Jack sprawled on the sofa, messily eating pizza, his eyes fixed on the screen of a portable DVD player. Ianto had subsequently found the entire box set of the show in Jack's bunker when he'd been organising the older man's laundry and giving the quarters its weekly clean. Of course, he'd been unable to resist teasing Jack about his viewing habits.

"All right," he agreed resignedly. If it got Jack out of the Hub for a few hours and allowed him to have some downtime, he supposed it was a small price to pay. "As long as I can watch something of mine too." He glanced down at his watch, noting it had already gone six o'clock. "Say half-seven then?"

Jack grinned at him, looking decidedly smug, his earlier despondent mood apparently lifted. "It's a date."

###

Ianto stopped at the nearby Tesco on his way home, picking up a few essentials along with some dessert and six-pack of Brains beer. Once at home, he quickly unpacked his purchases, and phoned in a pizza order – half-Hawaiian, half-vegetarian for himself, and a meat feast for Jack – adding potato salad and coleslaw to the order as an afterthought so Jack wouldn't berate him again about not eating enough vegetables. He showered, changed into a long-sleeve dark blue t-shirt and his favourite pair of jeans, attended to his grooming, fiddling at length with styling his hair, and then gave the apartment a hurried tidy.

He was both surprised and pleased that Jack had accepted his invitation. With Jack's mercurial nature, Ianto never quite knew what to expect, but he was looking forward to spending some time outside of the Hub with the other man. Thus far, their social contact beyond the underground base had been limited to a solitary trip to the pub after one particularly gruelling day a month earlier. Jack had declared he was in need of a drink, and he'd invited Ianto to join him. They'd shared a few drinks while chatting amiably about nothing in particular, and Ianto had enjoyed himself, finding the utter normality of the situation refreshing.

After neatly arranging plates and napkins on the coffee table, Ianto perused his extensive DVD collection, eventually settling on 'GoldenEye' as his choice of film for the evening. While he was more of a classic Bond fan, he thought Jack would appreciate something a bit more contemporary given his current predilection for modern pop-culture. He glanced around, checking nothing was out of place, a twinge of nervousness twisting at his stomach. He tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation, reassuring himself that it was a perfectly natural response to the prospect of having his boss visit his home, even when his home happened to be owned by the boss in question.

The intercom buzzed and checking his watch, Ianto realised it was the arrival of the pizzas. He retrieved his wallet from the bedroom and went downstairs to collect them. He'd only just returned when there was a knock at the door, and he opened it to find Jack smiling widely at him. It was only five minutes after half-past seven, and he was quite impressed by Jack's promptness. Punctuality usually wasn't one of the Captain's stronger attributes.

"Come in, Jack." Ianto smiled in greeting, closing the door once the other man had crossed the threshold.

Ianto couldn't help noticing Jack's eyes roaming over the length of his casually attired body with their usual lack of subtlety. "Hey, Ianto."

Well used to the other man's sometimes prurient behaviour, Ianto busied himself with removing Jack's greatcoat and hanging it on the coat stand, as Jack casually kicked off his boots. Ianto made a noise of disapproval under his breath, nudging the boots with his sock-clad feet until they were lined up neatly against the wall.

He gestured towards the sofa. "Pizzas are here. Make yourself comfortable."

Jack nodded and after extracting a DVD case from a pocket of his coat, he strolled across the living area and flopped down onto the sofa. "Beer?" Ianto called over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator.

"Thanks."

Ianto deftly opened two bottles and carried them over to the table, passing one to Jack and putting his own down on a coaster. After returning to the kitchen for the pizzas and salads, he sat down next to the older man and passed him a slice of meat feast on a plate, along with a napkin.

"The apartment looks great," Jack mumbled around a mouthful of pizza.

"All courtesy of a couple of trips to IKEA," Ianto admitted, glancing around at his fairly minimalist furnishings. He didn't need much so he'd kept it simple, with the living area consisting of the sofa and coffee table opposite an entertainment unit containing his large flat-screen television and assorted gadgets, a bookcase for his collection of books, CD's and DVD's, and a small desk for his printer and laptop. "I thought about repainting but it seemed like a bit too much hassle. Could always get someone in to do it I suppose."

"Hmm, probably best left to the professionals," Jack agreed. "So, do you like living here, Ianto?"

Ianto smiled. "Yeah... yeah, I do."

"Good. I'm glad it worked out. Shame for the place to go to waste." Jack picked up his beer, took a generous mouthful, and then reached for another slice of pizza. "Can we watch my DVD now?"

Ianto stifled a disparaging retort. "Yep."

For the next hour and a half, Jack sat engrossed in his Buffy episodes, giving Ianto an animated and surprisingly detailed commentary on the story-lines and characters, often interjecting with which of the players he thought was particularly hot and shag-worthy. From what Ianto could gather, Jack considered that list to include pretty much the entire cast, regardless of gender, age, or physical attributes.

Surreptitiously observing Jack as they watched the show, Ianto found that he was starting to enjoy it too. He particularly liked the Spike character, and although he'd never admit it to Jack, he decided he wouldn't mind seeing some more episodes. He also couldn't help but find Jack's fixation infectious and strangely endearing. It was so at odds with the man he was used to interacting with at work.

With a second episode finished, and most of the pizza consumed along with two bottles of beer each, Ianto rose to his feet. "Ready for some dessert?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. What are we having?"

"Chocolate cake or ice-cream... I've got vanilla or chocolate. What do you fancy?"

Jack put his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Can I have all three?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

Jack laughed. "You must be psychic."

Filling the biggest bowl he had with a generous serving of cake and two scoops each of chocolate and vanilla ice-cream, and then fetching a smaller bowl and a more modest piece of cake for himself, Ianto returned with their dessert and started his film.

"Not having any ice-cream?" Jack asked as he started digging into the food with his usual exuberance.

"I don't like ice-cream. It gives me a headache," Ianto replied, taking a small spoonful of chocolate cake into his mouth and savouring the rich flavour.

"All the more for me then." Jack chuckled, then let out an appreciative groan as he took a spoonful into his mouth. "If you keep feeding me like this, I might have to come by more often," he added in a joking tone.

"You're welcome any time, Jack," Ianto said sincerely.

"Thanks." Jack patted Ianto's knee and smiled, their eyes meeting briefly. "So you're a Bond fan?" he asked a moment later as the film began.

"Yep. Got all the films and books."

"So, which one is your favourite Bond?" Jack asked, looking at him curiously.

"Sean Connery," Ianto replied without hesitation. "Definitely."

"Hmm. I met him once. Sweet guy. He could do this amazing thing with his fingers..."

Ianto nearly choked on the piece of cake he'd just popped into his mouth. After spluttering for a moment, he glared dangerously at Jack. "Do not finish that sentence, Jack! I'll be scarred for life, and I won't be able to watch his films the same way ever again."

Jack threw back his head and laughed. "Oh well, it's your loss. It's a really good story too."

Ianto sighed. "I never know when to take you seriously."

Jack looked at him intently, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ianto, you should know by now to always take me seriously."

After dessert was finished, they settled back and watched the movie in relative but companionable silence. Jack seemed to be enjoying it, but by around the half-way point Ianto was struggling to keep his eyes open. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, he soon drifted off.

###

It was sometime later when Ianto's mind edged back towards consciousness. Feeling warm and relaxed, he didn't open his eyes immediately, not ready to return to reality quite yet. A familiar but elusive scent surrounded him, and his cheek was pressed against firm, warm skin. He nuzzled his face against it, savouring the sensation and letting out a soft, contented sigh.

"Comfy?" a deep voice asked quietly against his ear, an underlying tone of amusement evident.

Ianto eyes shot open and he quickly pulled back, realisation dawning on his sleep-fogged mind. He found to his horror he'd had his arms wrapped around Jack, and had been nuzzling his face against the older man's neck.

"Oh, God. Jack, I'm sorry... I..." He trailed off, embarrassed and completely at a loss about what to say to excuse himself.

"Hey, it's okay," Jack said gently, not looking the least bit perturbed. "You were tired and I didn't want to disturb you."

Jack was gazing at him so intently, and Ianto found he couldn't look away, momentarily mesmerised by the depths of Jack's intense blue eyes. Jack leaned closer and reached up his hand, trailing his fingertips tenderly across Ianto's lightly stubbled cheek and tracing along his jawline. "It was kind of nice, actually."

Just for a brief moment, Ianto leaned his face against Jack's hand, relishing the warm, comforting sensation. But his mind quickly caught up, and realising what he'd done, he pulled away, shaking his head firmly. "Jack, I... I'm not gay."

"Neither am I," Jack said evenly.

Ianto felt his eyebrows lift in surprise. "Oh. But... you like men, right?"

Jack sighed. "I don't discriminate. If I'm with someone I like, it doesn't matter to me if they're male or female, human or otherwise... I don't believe in those quaint, narrow-minded labels you people are so obsessed with."

"You've, um... you've had sex with aliens?" Ianto asked incredulously.

Jack chuckled slightly. "Hey! Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"Sorry," Ianto mumbled. "Look, Jack... I like you... I like you a lot... I want us to be friends. I'd like to think that we are friends. But I'm straight. I'm not attracted to men."

Jack nodded, but Ianto was sure he'd seen a brief flash of disappointment pass over his features. "Ianto, it's okay, don't worry about it."

Ianto shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say. They looked at each other awkwardly for a long moment, and Ianto felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.

Jack rose to his feet. "I should get going. Thanks for tonight. I had a great time, and it was good to get away from the Hub for a while."

"Me too," Ianto said quickly, also rising to his feet. "Maybe we can do this again sometime? Rift permitting, of course."

"Sure," Jack agreed with a broad smile that seemed just a little too forced. "I'd like that."

Collecting his DVD case and moving to the door, Jack tugged on his boots, and Ianto helped him into his coat. Jack turned to him and smiled again. "Get some rest, Ianto. You've earned it. I'll see you on Monday."

"See you on Monday," Ianto agreed, opening the door. "'Night, Jack," he murmured as Jack crossed the threshold and started walking away.

Reaching up his hand, Ianto touched his cheek and felt an inexplicable sense of loss and disappointment as he watched Jack retreat down the hallway.

###

Ianto woke the following morning after a long night of restless sleep, feeling tired and encumbered by a tangle of confusing thoughts. His dreams had been consumed by a kaleidoscope of images... images of Jack... undeniably erotic images of Jack. Tossing back the bed covers, he stared down at his pyjama-clad crotch. He was achingly hard and it seemed his erection wasn't going away of its own accord any time soon. Sighing wearily, he tugged off his pyjama pants, and began to stroke himself.

It was just sexual frustration, he told himself firmly. It was almost nine months since he'd broken up with Lisa, and in all that time, he'd only had his right hand for company. After all, he was a young bloke in his sexual prime, with a healthy libido. He had needs. For better or worse, Jack was the only person in his life at the moment. But he wasn't gay, he didn't like men in that way. He'd never been attracted to another man, even though he couldn't deny that he found Jack incredibly good-looking. Jack was completely stunning, if he was honest with himself. While he envied Jack's looks and charisma, he was beginning to realise that what he felt about Jack wasn't mere envy, no matter how vehemently he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Increasing the speed of his strokes while trailing his other hand across his bare chest, he found himself imagining what it would feel like to have Jack's strong but gentle hands touching and exploring his body. He imagined their naked flesh pressed together... moving his fingers over Jack's broad chest... Jack kissing him passionately... Jack stroking him until he was begging for release... Jack probing his fingers inside him... entering him... thrusting into him. He imagined their eyes locked hungrily onto each other... mouths moving relentlessly together, tongues tasting, teasing and intertwining... bodies hot and slick with sweat... faces contorted by the throes of ecstasy... both gasping and writhing in pleasure as they climaxed.

Panting as he continued to pleasure himself, his mind was consumed by more and more intense sensual images. A rush of heat suffused his body, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin. He was ridiculously hard and desperate for release. Stroking frantically, he closed his eyes as his body involuntarily arced upwards.

"Jack..." Groaning loudly, he erupted violently over his torso, wave after wave of pleasure washing over him, his entire body trembling as he rode out the aftershock of his orgasm.

He sank back down onto the bed, drawing deep, heavy breaths. Opening his eyes, he stared down at his debauched state with no small amount of horror. "Fuck", he muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes:** Well, this is my 100th chapter of Jack/Ianto fanfic and 100th post to this site. Not quite sure how that happened. Hopefully I'll still be here for a 200th chapter, although that seems a long way off right now. My sincere thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted and supported me along the way. Hope you all like this chapter which seems quite fitting for the occasion. Enjoy!

Thanks also to the wonderfully talented Prothrombintime for feedback and encouragement. If you haven't been following Prothrombintime's extraordinary Jack/Ianto epic "What is Essential is Invisible to the Eye", you really should go and start reading it right now. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_**March 27th, 2004**_

It was half-past seven on Saturday night a week later, and Ianto was sitting at his workstation in the Hub, staring glumly at the swirling blue pattern of the Torchwood mainframe on his computer screen. He was alone in the underground base while Jack was over at Swansea, coordinating the clean-up of a crashed alien spacecraft with the aid of UNIT.

He imagined the Captain would currently not be in the best of moods. Jack always hated liaising with the organisation that was the more public face for dealing with paranormal and extraterrestrial threats to the planet. Like Torchwood London, Jack didn't trust UNIT's leadership or agendas. However, with only the two of them on hand, Torchwood Cardiff simply didn't have the resources to deal with larger clean-up operations on its own. Jack might not have liked it, but with only Torchwood London or UNIT as his options for assistance when needed, he simply had to use what he perceived to be the lesser of two evils.

Although the Rift had been mercifully quiet for the past seven days, for Ianto personally, it had been a week from hell. And all because he couldn't get bloody Jack Harkness out of his mind.

It was all Jack's fault, Ianto thought belligerently, pounding his clenched hand against the unyielding metal surface of the desk. Bastard Jack and his ridiculous good-looks, his stupid coat, and that bloody potent aftershave of his. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that no man-made substance existed which could smell that good, and invariably manage to get him so riled up and befuddled. He wouldn't have put it past Jack to use some kind of alien pheromones to cause people to fawn all over him, not that he probably needed help with that anyway. With just a flash of his dazzling smile, Jack seemed to have people eating out of the palm of his hand. Ianto wasn't entirely immune either, much to his chagrin.

He'd spent the better part of the week hiding in the archives, only venturing out when absolutely necessary to deliver coffee to the Captain or to fetch their lunch. He was now the one being distant and aloof, doing his damnedest to conceal his turbulent, unsettled emotions behind a mask of consummate professionalism. It was clear that Jack had quickly noticed something was amiss, but Ianto had attempted to deflect away his concern, saying he was tired and hadn't been sleeping well. It hadn't been a lie, and although it was obvious Jack was unconvinced, he'd thankfully remained silent and hadn't pressed the matter further. However, Ianto hadn't failed to notice Jack watching him suspiciously for the last several days.

He was confused and angry. He was angry at Jack, albeit unfairly, and he was angry at himself for his taciturn treatment of the other man. Jack was his boss, his colleague, his friend... someone he admired and respected. None of it was actually Jack's fault, unless there really were alien pheromones in his aftershave. It wasn't Jack's fault that Ianto couldn't seem to stop fantasising about him.

He was also worried that his problem was going to jeopardise their working relationship, along with their tentative, new found friendship. He knew that if he didn't get his act together, he was going to undo the progress they'd made in establishing an amiable working environment.

The problem was that whenever Ianto laid eyes on Jack, all he wanted to do was slam Jack up against the nearest wall, grab the man's face in his hands, and kiss him senseless. It was utterly mortifying, and the harder he tried not to think about Jack, the more obsessed and single-minded his thoughts became. Although Ianto had the heritage of fiery, passionate Welsh blood coursing through his veins, he prided himself on his emotional reserve and resolute self-control. He wasn't someone who gave into their every baser impulse and lustful thought, no matter how intense and difficult to resist they might be.

"I'm not gay," he muttered vehemently under his breath, for what was probably the ten-thousandth time. "I don't like men. I like women. I only like Jack as a friend."

In his desperation to resolve his tumultuous feelings, he'd spent several hours online at home, watching gay pornography and staring at photographs of naked men on various blogs. While none of what he'd seen had repulsed him, it hadn't aroused him either. He'd watched dispassionately, admiring the good-looking men in a detached fashion, and cringing at the often passionless, mechanical, scripted sex, but he hadn't felt any attraction or arousal.

Then he'd begun to conjure up images of himself and Jack engaged in the various sexual acts he'd watched – along with so many more – and each time he did, he became immediately aroused. That was when he'd finally reached the realisation it wasn't men per se... it was Jack... it was only Jack. He just wasn't sure if that made the situation better or worse.

It wasn't just lust or sex. He liked being around Jack, and Jack was good company. He liked being close to Jack, and he liked taking care of him. He liked the way Jack had touched him on the few occasions where they'd had physical contact. And as difficult as it was to admit, he'd liked how comforted and safe he'd felt the couple of times he'd been pressed close against Jack, embraced in his arms.

With a weary sigh, Ianto slumped back in his chair and rubbed his hand roughly over his face. He had no idea what he was going to do. He recognised that he needed some perspective, but the only person he felt reasonably comfortable talking to, also happened to be the person with which he most definitely could not discuss any of it.

His eyes shifted to the end of his desk where he'd left the block of expensive dark chocolate he'd bought at lunchtime. He idly picked it up and trailed his thumb along the unopened cardboard packaging. He'd planned to share it with Jack over a cup of coffee and apologise for his behaviour, but then Jack had abruptly left for Swansea, putting his plan on hold.

His thoughts continued to drift until an insistent beeping captured his attention a few minutes later. Looking up at the screen, he tapped at his keyboard and discovered a sizeable Rift spike had just occurred in the Cardiff Docks area.

With Jack not due back for at least another hour or so, Ianto made a quick decision. Absently shoving the chocolate into his jacket pocket, he retrieved his gun from the armoury, along with a spare clip of ammunition. He then grabbed his scanner, phone, wallet and keys, and determinedly headed out into the night to investigate.

###

Ianto grimaced as strong headlights blinded his eyes and the Torchwood SUV screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, directly in front of him. Jack jumped out, slammed the door closed, and stomped towards him.

"Ianto, this has to stop," Jack shouted, glaring at him furiously as he came to a halt mere inches from Ianto's face. "I thought I'd made it clear that you're not to go on field missions, and especially not on your own. You didn't even check in with me first."

Ianto resolutely held his ground, withstanding the other man's challenging stare. "Jack, no, listen to me."

"I don't have time for this," Jack continued, ignoring him. "Look, I don't care what your problem is, I want you to go home. I should put you on suspension for insubordination."

Ianto squared his shoulders, feeling his own temper rising. "No, but the thing is–"

Jack stabbed a finger at Ianto's chest, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Ianto, I don't want to hear it. It's been a long day. Go home." He turned away and stalked back to the SUV.

Ianto clenched his fists in frustration. "You're not gonna help me catch this pterodactyl then?" he called out.

Jack spun back around and stared hard at him, the angry expression on his face transforming into one of shock and surprise.

###

"Okay, is that the only special equipment we've got?" Ianto asked, looking dubiously at the huge syringe Jack was in the process of assembling.

"Yeah, because I keep dinosaur nets in the back of the SUV," Jack retorted sarcastically.

"Torchwood London does," Ianto blurted out, immediately regretting his words when Jack glared at him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Jack turned away and finished putting the syringe together. He ran over to the door of the abandoned warehouse, Ianto jogging after him.

After receiving the Rift alert, Ianto had driven to the location provided by the Hub's mainframe. He'd been exploring the area on foot for several minutes, using his hand-held scanner to try to narrow down the exact position when he'd heard a loud screeching sound above. Looking up, he'd got the fright of his life as a large, and probably hungry, flying reptile had swooped down from high in the night sky, heading directly for him. He'd been both shocked and awed when he'd quickly recognised that the creature was a pterodactyl – a pterosaur, to be exact.

After playing cat and mouse with the prehistoric reptile for several minutes, he'd reached a disused warehouse, and after managing to shoot off the lock on the door, he'd used himself as bait to lure the creature inside. After firing off a couple of warning shots to distract the creature, he'd made his escape, sealing the door behind him. He'd only just made it back to where he'd parked his car when the SUV had roared towards him, accompanied by a furious Jack.

Reaching the corrugated metal door, Ianto pulled it open and followed Jack inside. They both looked up as the creature screeched from where it was circling high in the air and then dived directly for them.

"Uh, nope," Ianto said as they both dashed back out through the door, Ianto slamming it closed again.

"How did you find it?" Jack asked, looking awestruck as he leaned with his back to the door, close by Ianto's side.

"It found me," Ianto replied, turning his head to look at him. "I managed to lure it in here."

"Really?" Jack said, sounding impressed, his earlier anger seeming to have vanished.

Ianto grinned. "Yep."

"It's quite excitable," Jack said, grinning back at him.

"Must be your aftershave," Ianto quipped, his mind losing focus for a moment as he admired Jack's handsome, chiselled features in the dim, shadowy light.

Jack looked at him smugly. "Never wear any."

Ianto felt his eyes widen in shock. He'd been thinking that Jack applied some sort of alien-enhanced scent, but if Jack's statement was true, it was actually an inherent part of him. "You smell like that naturally?" he asked in disbelief.

"Fifty-first century pheromones," Jack replied casually. "You people have no idea."

Lost for words, Ianto just stared at him blankly. "Huh."

"Ready for another go?" Jack asked, obviously unaware of Ianto's inner turmoil.

Ianto nodded, forcing his attention back to the task at hand. He'd have time to think about Jack's latest revelation later. "I'm game if you are."

Jack counted down, "Three, two, one..."

Ianto opened the door again and they ran back inside. Closing the door behind them, Ianto looked up to see the screeching reptile heading straight for them again.

"Split up!" Jack yelled.

The ran deeper into the warehouse in separate directions, Jack going to the right, Ianto to the left. Apparently confused, the pterodactyl landed on the ground in front of the door they'd just entered, blocking their escape route. They met up again in the middle of the warehouse and Jack grabbed Ianto, holding him back.

"We're not gonna harm you," Jack called out in a placating tone as he started moving slowly forward, keeping Ianto behind him. "You can't stay here. Come back with me. I've got somewhere nice and big where you can fly around."

"Okay, you want to keep a pet pterodactyl at the Hub?" Ianto asked, realising with despair that it was going to be his job to feed and look after it.

Jack shrugged. "We could use a guard dog."

Ianto grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him back. "Jack, what exactly is your plan?"

Jack pulled free as the pterodactyl spread its wings and flapped them several times while continuing to screech loudly. "I'm going to be the decoy."

Ianto looked at him incredulously. "It will rip you to shreds."

"Dinosaurs?" Jack scoffed, his eyes remaining locked on the pterodactyl. "Had 'em for breakfast. Had to. Only source of pre-killed food protein after the asteroid crashed. Long story." He handed Ianto the big syringe. "Here you go. One injection to the central nervous cortex. I'll keep it occupied." He tapped Ianto on the chest. "Move!"

Ianto shook his head. "No."

"What?" Jack turned and raised his eyebrows as he stared at Ianto, his eyes narrowing.

Ianto handed the syringe back to Jack. "It knows me. I'll be a better decoy."

Jack shook his head stubbornly. "No way, it's too dangerous."

"No, I've got a secret weapon..." Struck by inspiration, Ianto reached into his jacket pocket and extracted the block of chocolate he'd picked up from his desk earlier. "Chocolate... preferably dark."

Ianto couldn't help smirking with satisfaction as Jack looked at him with a blank, dumbfounded expression. Moving away from the other man, he cautiously approached the pterodactyl, trying to keep his movements as slow and non-threatening as possible. Glancing over his left shoulder, he saw Jack was slowly making his way around and behind the creature.

Ianto whistled at the reptile, which was standing still and watching him, its head tilted to the side, striking a pose approximating a look of curiosity. "I've got your favourite, yeah."

He edged closer to the creature, trying to keep its attention as Jack continued his stealthy approach, syringe in hand. Unwrapping the chocolate, Ianto tossed it towards the reptile. It looked back and forward between Ianto and where the block of chocolate had landed on the ground just in front of it.

"It's good for your serotonin levels," Ianto suggested to the creature, idly wondering if he'd lost his mind. "Ah... if you've got serotonin levels."

He was amused to see the pterodactyl move forward and start pecking at the chocolate, while Jack continued to move in closer. Suddenly the creature turned around and spotted Jack, who stopped moving, looking worriedly between the creature and Ianto. The pterodactyl spread its wings and took off into the air as Jack frantically lunged forward, grabbing one of its legs just in time. He was promptly lifted off his feet and went soaring up into the air, trailing precariously behind the flying reptile.

"Whoa!" Ianto shouted, looking up at them worriedly as he wondered what he could do to help Jack. While he knew the other man couldn't be permanently injured, he didn't relish the thought of Jack falling and breaking his neck.

Jack was hanging onto the screeching, agitated creature for dear life by one hand. "Argh! Whoa! Ianto!"

Ianto watched in amazement as Jack somehow managed to jab the syringe into the pterodactyl's leg, emptying the contents into the creature. He then lost his grip, falling through the air directly above Ianto. Instinctively, Ianto held out his arms with the intention of breaking Jack's fall.

A moment later, Jack's solid weight hit him hard, sending them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs – Ianto ending up flat on his back, with Jack sprawled out on top of him. Ianto groaned loudly as he tried to replenish the air that had been forced from his lungs with the impact.

"Sorry!" Jack muttered, breathing rapidly, his body pressing down heavily on Ianto.

Staring up past Jack's shoulder, Ianto realised the tranquilliser had begun to take effect and the pterodactyl was dropping like a rock directly above them. With only a moment to spare before they were crushed, Ianto yelped in surprise and wrapped his arms around Jack, rolling them over several times until they were clear of the creature's landing zone. The unconscious pterodactyl landed with a heavy thud in the exact spot they'd been sprawled on a moment earlier.

Ianto gasped for breath as he stared down at Jack who was laughing and grinning up at him. Ianto couldn't help laughing too as he grinned back. They'd ended up with Jack's back to the ground and Ianto lying on top of him, the full length of their bodies in contact with one another. Still laughing and elated from the rush of adrenaline, Ianto realised in that single moment, he felt happier and more alive than he could ever remember. It felt incredibly liberating to laugh so freely and without reservation.

His face was only a couple of inches away from Jack's, the tips of their noses almost touching. With Jack's strong, firm body beneath him, he stared down into Jack's eyes, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He could feel the older man's warm breath ghosting over his skin, and Jack's intoxicating musky scent filled his nostrils, seeming more potent and powerful than ever before. Jack was staring back at him, his eyes bright, warm, and intense, but Jack's grin faltered as a look of uncertainty passed over his features.

Ianto felt the last tremulous threads of his self-control shatter, and all the turmoil he'd been struggling with for the past week suddenly seemed inconsequential. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't going to deny himself for a moment longer.

Leaning in closer, Ianto pressed his lips firmly against Jack's and kissed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: **Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for feedback and suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

_**March 27th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto moved swiftly into his bedroom and roughly stripped off his suit, uncharacteristically leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. Taking off his shirt and adding it to the pile, he pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a black t-shirt. After a detour to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, he collapsed onto the sofa and buried his head in his trembling hands.

He'd helped Jack to load their unconscious pterodactyl into the SUV, and then they'd driven back separately to the Hub. After assisting Jack with temporarily settling the creature in one of the large rooms in the Hub's lower levels, he'd made a hasty and cowardly departure, unable to face the other man for a moment longer.

His mind was reeling, replaying the scene at the warehouse over and over with unwavering clarity. Lying on top of Jack on the cold, dirty floor, hopped up on adrenaline from capturing the pterodactyl, he'd succumbed to his desires and kissed the older man. He'd kissed the man who was his boss... his very male, very masculine boss... the man who was over one-hundred and seventy years old, who couldn't die, and who looked like he was still in his thirties. He'd kissed Jack with more passion than he'd ever kissed anyone, including Lisa, the woman he'd once loved. He'd kissed Jack as if his very life had depended on it, relentlessly plundering his mouth until they were both gasping for air. To his surprise, Jack had kissed him back with an equal amount of passionate desperation. Ianto had loved every moment of it.

He hadn't known what it would feel like to kiss another man. It had been different, but not as much as he'd expected. Jack's lips had been warm and soft, his mouth hot, wet and delicious, and although there had been a slight scrape of stubble against his skin, he'd enjoyed the sensation, finding it unexpectedly sensual. It didn't hurt that Jack was a fantastic kisser. He was more than fantastic, he was phenomenal. Ianto supposed that with Jack's very long life, he'd had plenty of time to hone that particular skill, and undoubtedly many other associated skills as well.

Then he'd felt Jack's erection through the layers of their clothing, pressing against him and matching his own heavily aroused state, and reality had immediately come crashing down. Breathing rapidly and overwhelmed by his actions, he'd pulled away and scrambled off the other man. He'd quickly retreated behind a mask of detached professionalism, busying himself with the task of transporting their newly adopted pet back to the Hub. Jack had risen to his feet and stared hard at him for several long, awkward moments. Surprisingly, he hadn't said anything, he'd simply assisted Ianto with the task at hand.

Ianto felt utterly mortified. He'd acted unprofessionally, allowed his self-control to waver, and given in to his baser emotions. Besides the whole Jack being a man issue, Jack was his boss, the person he worked with every day, and someone who he'd begun to think of as a friend. There was also the monumental age disparity. Based on physical appearance, Jack was almost twice his age. In actual fact, Jack was old enough to be his great-great-great-grandfather.

He could no longer deny that he was lonely, and he missed the touch of another person. In truth, he'd been lonely since Lisa had broken up with him, and his fragile self-esteem had taken a significant battering from her rejection. He knew he should be trying to find someone his own age to spend time with – someone female... someone uncomplicated. Rationally, he knew it was what he should do. But it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Jack... he only wanted Jack.

He wanted someone he could connect with, someone he could talk to about anything, everything, or nothing at all, someone who was a part of, and who understood this strange life he'd chosen. He wanted someone who he could lose himself in, someone who made him feel exhilarated and alive. And now that he'd experienced just a tiny glimpse of what being with Jack could feel like, he wanted it quite possibly more than he'd ever wanted anything.

Groaning despondently, he dragged his unsteady hands through his hair, berating himself for being so pathetic and fanciful. He needed to pull himself together and get over his strange, unhealthy obsession with Jack Harkness.

A loud knock at the door drew him abruptly from his confused thoughts. He looked up with a start, instinctively knowing who was at the other side of the door. He swallowed nervously and reluctantly stood up. Steeling himself, he went to the door and opened it. "Jack, um... hi."

Jack was looking back at him, his features set in a peculiar, inscrutable expression. "Ianto, I think we need to talk."

Ianto nodded stiffly and gestured for Jack to enter, mechanically removing the man's greatcoat and hanging it up beside the door. He retreated to the sofa, sat down again, and clutched his hands nervously between his knees. Jack joined him a moment later and sat down next to him, keeping a few inches of space between them.

Breathing out a sigh, Ianto summoned his courage and turned to meet Jack's questioning gaze. "Look, Jack, I'm sorry about what happened... I shouldn't have..."

Jack held up his hand. "Ianto, stop. You don't need to apologise. I'm just not sure if I understand what's going on here." He paused, scrutinising Ianto with the familiar soul-searching intensity that caused Ianto to want to squirm self-consciously. "Considering that you told me you don't like men, that was one hell of a kiss."

Ianto felt a rush of heat rise to his face. He shook his head firmly. "I don't... I don't like men. But..." He looked down at his hands, unable to hold Jack's gaze. "I like you," he admitted in little more than a whisper. "I'm attracted to you. I don't understand it. I..."

Jack rested his hand on Ianto's knee and squeezed gently. "Is this why you've been acting so strangely all week and hiding in the archives?"

"I wasn't hiding," Ianto protested, staring down at Jack's hand for a long moment before reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet Jack's once more.

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow.

Ianto sighed heavily. "All right, yes, I was hiding. I've been a coward."

Jack chuckled slightly, causing Ianto to scowl at him. "Oh, Ianto. Why didn't you talk to me about this?" Jack's features softened from amusement to something closer to sympathy. "You said you think of us as friends. Aren't friends supposed to be able to talk to each other?" He breathed out a sigh, looking chagrined. "But I know it's not easy. I've never been particularly good at talking about my feelings either."

Ianto shrugged. "You're also my boss."

"True," Jack agreed. "But this has nothing to do with work. I won't deny that I prefer not to get involved with the people I work with. I've done that before and it doesn't usually end well. But..." He moved closer and hesitantly reaching up, he traced his fingertips gently over Ianto's cheek, the same way he'd done the week before. "For you, I'd make an exception."

Ianto looked at Jack incredulously, but he savoured the comforting warmth of Jack's hand against his skin, and this time he didn't make any attempt to pull away. Although their kiss at the warehouse had been intense, he'd never seriously thought that someone like Jack could be interested in him. "You would?"

Jack nodded as he stroked his hand once more over Ianto's cheek before lowering it back to his side. "Surely you noticed I wasn't unhappy when you kissed me?" His expression became surprisingly uncertain. "Why? Do you regret doing it?"

Ianto knew he could lie and say it had been a mistake, and that could be the end of it. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't lie to Jack. "No. No, I don't. It's just that..." He trailed off, not sure what else to say.

Jack smiled briefly, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Ianto, you're so young. And I don't mean that to sound condescending. I suppose everyone seems young to me." He paused and Ianto could see the now familiar vulnerability and pain in Jack's eyes. "You're still discovering who you are. Perhaps you're starting to realise that your sexuality isn't as black and white as you once thought. That's not a bad thing. It can be amazing... opening yourself up to all kinds of new experiences and possibilities."

Jack paused again, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "And I know you're someone who likes to be in control all the time. You want to understand everything and put it all into neat little categories. There's nothing wrong with that. But maybe this is something you can't define or control." He shrugged slightly. "Those quaint labels that you people are so obsessed about... do they really matter? They're just words. What really matters is being true to yourself."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. Intellectually, everything Jack said made sense, but as he was quickly realising, this wasn't an intellectual issue. He'd never doubted his sexuality before, and he'd definitely never thought about doing anything sexual with another man. If he hadn't met Jack, he probably never would have considered it. And yet, here he was, with all these new uncharted desires he wanted to understand and experience, and it seemed that Jack was both interested and willing.

He looked at Jack for a long moment, admiring his striking, classically handsome features in the soft lighting. He was inexplicably drawn to this strange, amazing, impossible man. A part of him wanted to simply disregard his feelings as some bizarre infatuation, the product of his loneliness perhaps, or a projection of his deep sympathy for Jack's situation. But he'd tried to ignore his feelings and it had only made him confused and miserable. He didn't want to repress or subjugate his desires, or look back with regret on something that could have been amazing and potentially life-altering. He wanted to be brave enough to take a chance, and no matter how difficult and confronting it might be, he wanted to explore and understand his feelings about Jack. For once, he wanted to act his age, just say to hell with it, and see what happened.

"You're right," he said eventually, offering Jack a small self-deprecating smile. "It's all a bit new to me, that's all."

Jack nodded, smiling back at him gently. "So, where do we go from here? What do you want, Ianto?"

Ianto didn't respond immediately. He wasn't entirely sure what Jack was offering, and he also wasn't sure what he was willing to offer Jack in return. Jack's face was so close, his warm, moist lips were so incredibly tempting, and Ianto felt a surge of feverish desire begin to take hold of him once more. "Well, I'd like to kiss you again," he said with more confidence than he felt.

Jack grinned salaciously, his blue eyes sparkling with what seemed to be a mixture of desire and mischief. "You would, huh?"

Ianto nodded, his heart racing as his crotch became uncomfortably tight. "Yep."

Jack moved in closer and cradled Ianto's face in both of his hands. "Hmm. I think that can be arranged."

Their lips touched. Ianto brought his hands up to rest around the back of Jack's neck, stroking the smooth skin and pulling him closer as their kiss slowly deepened. Jack's tongue brushed across his lips, and Ianto willingly opened his mouth, allowing Jack to enter and eagerly explore. Ianto groaned with pleasure and he began to probe Jack's mouth with the same insistent determination. Just like in the warehouse, he soon found himself lost in Jack's warmth, taste and scent. In that one perfect moment, all his doubts and confusion slipped away. He didn't want it to end.

After what seemed like several minutes, but was still far too soon, they pulled apart with a soft gasp, their foreheads resting against one another.

"Ianto, you know, you shouldn't be too hard on yourself," Jack murmured, a devilish smile creeping across his face. He briefly pressed his lips against Ianto's and then pulled back, gesturing at himself. "I mean, look at me. When you think about it, you really didn't stand a chance."

Ianto rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, but he was unable to hold back an affectionate smile. "Still struggling to overcome your self-confidence issues, sir?"

Jack laughed with obvious amusement. "There's my snarky Ianto back again. I've missed that."

Ianto tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest from Jack referring to him as 'his Ianto'. It was good to hear Jack laugh. It didn't happen very often, but he loved Jack's laugh when it was so carefree and uninhibited. It was the same laugh he'd heard at the warehouse earlier. He clasped Jack's face in his hands and pulled him into another deep, hungry kiss.

Ianto sighed when the kiss finally ended. "Stay?" he asked tentatively.

Jack stroked his hand through Ianto's hair and then caressed his cheek again. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I'm sure." Ianto stood up, hesitantly offering Jack his hand. Jack looked uncertain for a moment, but then he took Ianto's hand in his own, and after he'd risen to his feet, they kissed again.

"Come on," Ianto murmured, leading Jack into the bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone for reading, alerting, reviewing and following this story so far. Special thanks to the amazing Prothrombintime for greatly needed suggestions and feedback on this chapter. Hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**March 27th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto let go of Jack's hand and tossed back the bed covers as Jack kicked off his boots. He turned slowly towards Jack, the enormity of the moment causing a nervous fluttering to settle uncomfortably in his stomach. Jack was looking at him steadily, apparently waiting for him to make the first move. With his heart pounding furiously and his mind ablaze with a tumultuous mix of apprehension, anticipation and desire, Ianto cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

A soft smile crept across Jack's lips as he pulled Ianto forward and into his arms. Their mouths collided hungrily, and they stumbled towards the bed, falling onto it in a graceless tangle of limbs, the kiss continuing as their tongues caressed and explored. With the entire length of Jack's body pressing down upon him, Ianto could feel the length of Jack's erection through the restrictive confines of their clothing. A needy moan escaped from his throat as he rocked his hips, rubbing his own straining arousal against the older man.

Breaking the kiss, Jack kneeled back, deftly unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off. His white undershirt quickly followed, providing Ianto with an unobstructed view of the smooth, muscular torso he'd fantasised about. Jack grasped the bottom of Ianto's t-shirt, and Ianto obligingly sat up, raising his arms as Jack peeled it away.

Their mouths met again, their arms wrapping tightly around one another, their bare chests pressing together. Jack's skin felt warm and wonderfully sensual against his own, and Ianto became more intensely aroused with each passing moment.

Jack's hands shifted downwards and slowly unfastened Ianto's jeans, tugging them off and tossing them to the floor. Jack's trousers soon followed and they kissed again, easing back down onto the bed. Jack's lips trailed along Ianto's jawline, down the sensitive skin of his throat, and across his chest. Ianto trembled and gasped involuntarily as Jack's mouth latched onto one of his nipples, his tongue coaxing it into a hard peak as his fingers caressed Ianto's other nipple into a similarly aroused state.

Grinning up at him, Jack proceeded to lick, nip, and kiss his way down Ianto's body, pausing to dip his tongue into the depression of Ianto's navel. Ianto's mind seared with a jumble of lust and incredulity, his desperate longing overriding what remained of his anxiety and confusion. Settling himself between Ianto's thighs, Jack pressed his right hand against Ianto's underwear and massaged his crotch teasingly, while his other hand roamed up Ianto's side and over his chest.

"Okay?" Jack murmured, sliding his thumb under the elastic waistband of Ianto's underwear and stroking the soft skin beneath.

Ianto gazed up at Jack, suddenly feeling a renewed surge of insecurity and uncertainty. Jack was stunning, he'd had several lifetimes of experience, and he'd undoubtedly been with numerous people far more interesting, skilled, and exciting than a somewhat reclusive, twenty-one year old Welshman. Compared to Jack, he felt unremarkable and woefully inexperienced. And while his sex life with Lisa had been enjoyable, it hadn't been especially intense or exciting. Besides, Jack was his employer – sometimes taciturn, often intimidating, and very definitely male. He was in no way prepared for this encounter, and as desperately as he wanted this... wanted Jack... wanted to please Jack... he realised he was completely out of his depth.

Jack removed his hands, sat back, and looked worriedly at Ianto, obviously picking up on his hesitation. "Ianto, what's wrong?"

"I just..." Ianto sighed in frustration. He reached up and ran his hand over Jack's shoulder and down his arm. "I don't want to disappoint you," he finally admitted.

Jack leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. "Ianto, you couldn't disappoint me." He kissed him again. "I want you. I've wanted you almost since the day we met." He chuckled gently against Ianto's cheek, the sound causing warm tendrils of desire to course along Ianto's spine. "You have no idea how many cold showers I've had to take these last six months."

Ianto stared at Jack in disbelief. For a long time, he'd thought Jack didn't even like him, let alone fantasised about him sexually. He searched Jack's features, looking for any hint of disingenuity. Jack was looking back at him earnestly, a disarming smile gracing his lips, a twinkle of self-deprecating amusement in his eyes. "I don't exactly know what I'm doing," Ianto said hesitantly in little more than a whisper.

Jack smiled with what seemed to be affection and understanding, sat back again, and tugged off his own briefs, casually dropping them to the floor. Resting on his elbows, Ianto stared at Jack, captivated by the sight of the other man's hard and rather intimidating erection. He'd never imagined finding the sight of another man so fascinating and arousing.

Jack reached for Ianto's hand and guided it closer. "Touch me," he murmured. "The way you like to touch yourself."

Ianto reached forward and slowly stroked his hand along Jack's length, tentatively at first, but gaining confidence when Jack's eyes fluttered closed and he let out an appreciative moan. Ianto teased his thumb over the leaking head, enjoying the sensation, both similar to and different from when he touched himself.

Jack opened his eyes again and with a questioning look, he once more slid his fingers under the waistband of Ianto's underwear.

Somewhat reassured, Ianto nodded his consent and lifted his hips, watching as Jack peeled off the final piece of his clothing. He was a little smaller than Jack, but not by much, he realised with relief. Jack was silent as he stared down at him, his blue eyes dark and wide, and Ianto hoped he wasn't seeing disappointment in the man's inscrutable expression.

"Jack?" he asked nervously, feeling vulnerable and self-conscious under the intense gaze.

Jack trailed his fingers over Ianto's balls and along the length of his erection, teasing gently at the foreskin and sensitive head, causing Ianto to tremble and breathe out a ragged groan. He couldn't quite comprehend that he was completely naked with another man and being touched so intimately. Even more surprising was how very much he was enjoying it.

A warm smile spread across Jack's face as his hand continued to explore Ianto's body. "I've tried so many times to imagine what you've been hiding under those gorgeous suits."

Ianto looked at him warily. "You're um... you're not too disappointed?"

"Disappointed?" Jack asked in an incredulous tone. He shook his head as he moved his hands over Ianto's torso, teasing his fingers up through the trail of dark hair that ran from Ianto's crotch and over his stomach, thickened as it spread out across his chest, and tapered off to a few curling strands at the hollow of his neck. "Gods, Ianto. You're beautiful."

Ianto wanted to dismiss Jack's flattery as ridiculous, however there was nothing but sincerity in Jack's voice and undisguised desire in his eyes. "You're not bad yourself, Jack," he murmured instead, smiling slyly up at him.

"Not bad? Is that all I get?" Jack demanded, his mouth shifting into what looked suspiciously like a pout.

Ianto resisted the urge to roll his eyes, amused by Jack's petulant expression. "All right, fine. You're bloody gorgeous."

"That's better," Jack agreed, his expression transforming into a lascivious grin. "Much better."

Ianto tugged impatiently at Jack's arms, pulling him down until their lips met again in a deep, languid kiss. The movement caused the sensitive skin of their erections to slide together, sending an exquisite spike of pleasure coursing along Ianto's body. They moved slowly against one another as Ianto roamed his hands over Jack's body, wanting to touch every part of him, revelling in the feel of Jack's bare flesh against his own.

Jack clasped Ianto's hand and guided it down between them. Ianto tentatively wrapped his fingers around their erections and began to stroke them. He was achingly hard and so overcome with sensation, he knew he wouldn't last very long. He varied the speed of his strokes, occasionally pausing to tease their leaking crowns or fondle their tightening balls, the way he liked to do to himself. Jack thrust against him, increasing the friction between them. With his other hand, Ianto clasped at the back of Jack's neck, holding their faces close together.

"This okay?" Ianto mumbled as Jack's mouth moved from his lips and worked down the length of his neck.

"Oh, yeah," Jack murmured against the base of his throat. "I'm not gonna last long."

"Me neither," Ianto muttered, moaning as Jack's mouth claimed his lips again.

They established a slow rhythm and it wasn't long before Ianto was beyond the point of no return. Heat seared through him as he throbbed against Jack, and with a ragged gasp, he spurted out his release with explosive force, coating his chest and stomach as waves of pleasure rippled along his body.

He kept stroking and Jack climaxed a moment later. With a loud groan, Jack's body trembled as he erupted over Ianto's hand and stomach. Breathing rapidly, Jack collapsed against Ianto's side, wrapping an arm around Ianto's shoulders and randomly pressing kisses over his face and neck.

"Wow," Jack muttered as their breathing began to even out. "You okay?"

Distractedly wiping his sticky hand against his stomach, Ianto looked down at his flushed, slick skin and couldn't help grinning. "Yeah... more than okay."

He reached over to the bedside table, grabbed a handful of tissues, and quickly wiped themselves clean. Turning to Jack, he smiled and kissed him gently. They continued kissing, limbs intertwined, hands moving and exploring. Eventually they settled into a comfortable embrace and Ianto rested his head on Jack's chest, the steady thump of Jack's heartbeat soothing against his ear.

His thoughts drifted in a contented haze as he idly traced his fingers over the warm skin of Jack's toned abdomen. He was astonished by how captivated he was with Jack's body. While he hadn't thought he'd find any part of Jack unattractive, he hadn't expected to be quite so enamoured. He moved his hand lower, following the fine trail of hair from Jack's navel and trailing his fingers through the expanse of thick, dark hair framing Jack's crotch. It was strange to think of a man as beautiful, but that's what Jack was, and there was nothing about Jack's body that he found unappealing. He could easily spend countless hours doing nothing more than admiring, touching and exploring Jack. Tracing the outline of Jack's hip, he pressed a kiss to Jack's chest, his lips lingering over the firm flesh as Jack responded with a murmured sound of appreciation.

Everything about being with Jack was overwhelming, intimidating, and more than a little terrifying, but it was also thrilling, exciting, and completely different. Ianto was still surprised by just how much he enjoyed the closeness and comfort of Jack's presence. This new intimacy probably should have felt strange and awkward, especially given that Jack was a man and they'd just shared an intense sexual experience – even if they technically hadn't had sex yet – but none of that seemed to matter.

Recalling the events leading up to this moment, Ianto glanced down to where Jack's arm was slung low across his hip, fingers stroking gently. Jack had removed his anachronistic wrist-strap earlier and put it on the bedside table. It was the first time he'd seen Jack not wearing it.

"Fifty-first century pheromones," he said, thinking aloud as he lifted his head and rested it against his hand, looking into Jack's hooded eyes. "That's what you said at the warehouse."

He paused thoughtfully. Jack seemed to have knowledge and skills beyond that of present-day Earth, and he knew that time travel was possible from what he'd learned during his time at Torchwood One. The mysterious alien known as the Doctor, identified as being dangerous and an enemy of the Crown – Torchwood's Enemy Number One supposedly – was known to travel in a time machine with the outward appearance of a blue 1960's London police box. Suddenly it all seemed to make sense. "Is that where you come from, Jack? The fifty-first century?"

Jack looked startled, and Ianto wondered if he was going to refuse to answer. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Jack sighed and nodded. "Yes," he said simply, glancing over Ianto's shoulder at the bedside table. "My wrist-strap... it's called a Vortex Manipulator. It allows the wearer to travel through time and space. But mine's broken, the teleportation and time travel functions burned out when I landed here in 1869. I've been stuck here ever since."

"But you're from Earth originally?" Ianto asked while trying to comprehend that such a tiny device was capable of something so extraordinary. "I mean, you're... erm... you're human?"

Jack chuckled. "I'm human, just a little more evolved than you. You don't need to worry, Ianto. You didn't just have sex with an alien." He smiled, but his expression quickly became sombre again. "Well, technically, you did... I wasn't born on Earth. Things change a lot over the next few thousand years. The human race eventually travels to the stars and settle on other planets. Where I come from, humans have spread out all over the galaxy." His features turned wistful and a deep longing seemed to creep into his eyes. "I grew up in another solar system, on a remote human colony called the Boeshane Peninsula."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully, processing this latest mind-jarring revelation. It was startling, but he was realising that when it came to Jack Harkness, anything was possible.

"You're not freaking out?" Jack asked after a moment, looking into his eyes apprehensively.

Ianto shook his head. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, maybe a little. But I'm glad you're not." Jack paused and smiled, but then his expression changed again. He looked conflicted and almost fearful. "Ianto, it's been a long time since I've been this close to anyone. And I'm not talking about sex. Sex is easy, but this... this isn't easy. Not for me. And I know this is a big deal for you, being with another man for the first time, but... having you know about me... my condition... where I'm from, when I'm from... well, that's a big deal for me."

Surprised by Jack's honesty, Ianto reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers, squeezing their hands together. "It must be difficult, having to hide so much of yourself all the time... not being able to trust anyone," he said cautiously before giving Jack a reassuring smile. "You know, for two blokes who are rubbish at talking, we're not doing too badly."

Jack laughed softly. "No, we're not doing badly at all." A smile crept over his lips again as he stroked his other hand through Ianto's hair. "You're pretty amazing, Ianto Jones, you know that?"

"Am I?" Ianto asked sceptically, raising his eyebrows.

Jack nodded, only sincerity showing in his features. "Yeah, you really are."

Feeling a rush of affection for the other man, Ianto leaned in and captured Jack's mouth with his own. Jack responded eagerly, his fingers trailing down Ianto's spine and settling on his buttocks, grasping and kneading the soft flesh.

They continued kissing for some time, and Ianto was becoming aroused again when Jack pulled back with a sigh and a look of apology. He traced his fingers down the side of Ianto's face, along his shoulder, and down his arm.

"I'd better go," he said, sounding regretful. "I need to check on our new pet, and someone has to keep an eye on the Rift." He pressed a brief kiss to Ianto's lips before untangling their limbs and pulling away. "I'll let myself out and you can get some rest."

Ianto nodded, disappointed that Jack was leaving, but deciding it was probably for the best given how new this was for both of them. Besides, Torchwood always had to come first. Feeling his eyelids becoming heavy, and realising he was more tired than he'd thought, he watched as Jack collected his clothes and quickly dressed.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, pulled on his boots, and then turned to look at him. "Ianto, thank you," he said quietly, reaching for Ianto's hand and squeezing it before turning away.

"'Night, Jack," Ianto murmured as Jack moved to the door, looked back at him once more, then left the room.

After hearing the front door open and close a few moments later, Ianto pulled the covers up to his shoulders. His thoughts drifted as the desire for sleep tugged at his consciousness. With this profound and unexpected turn of events, he was certain his life was never going to be the same again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes:** I hurried to post this chapter several days early... with the current turmoil on the site, I don't know what's going to happen with my stories, but you can also find me on LiveJournal under the same user name. The link is on my profile page. This particular story isn't on LiveJournal yet, but if I'm unable to keep posting here, I'll post updates there instead. Just so everyone knows where to look in case the story suddenly disappears from here.

Thanks as always for all the reviews and encouragement. Thanks also to the amazing Prothrombintime for invaluable support and feedback. If this happens to be my last post here, I just want to say once again how much I've appreciated all the support I've had from so many of you. Thank you so much.

This chapter is longer than I usually prefer but it didn't make sense to break it up. Hopefully no one minds too much. :-) Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

_**March 28th, 2004**_

Ianto woke the following morning feeling relaxed and content, having slept more peacefully than he had in months. With a languid sigh, he looked towards the window with bleary eyes and blinked several times, his sleep-befuddled mind comforted by the illumination of the soft morning light creeping in from the edges of the curtains.

He glanced at his bedside clock, surprised to discover it was almost eight a.m. His brain caught up as he remembered it was his day off, and that he'd turned off his alarm in anticipation of a rare lie-in. He stretched out his long limbs, rolled over onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow, hoping to enjoy his semi-lucid state for a while longer.

Jack's scent lingered in the pillows and sheets, and he breathed in deeply, savouring the unique reminder of an even more unique man's presence in his bed the night before. As always, the distinctive, otherworldly smell – which he was still amazed was courtesy of fifty-first century biology – managed to both comfort and arouse him. Part of him was still in a state of shock and confusion over having had a naked man in his bed less than twelve hours earlier, and not just any man at that. But another part of him wished the man in question was still with him now.

After Jack's departure, he'd slept for several hours, waking a little after one a.m. with a stomach growling in protest from lack of food. Reluctantly, he'd left the warmth of his bed, cleaned himself up, pulled on his pyjamas, then made himself a toasted cheese sandwich and a cup of weak, milky tea. With his hunger satisfied, he'd stood at the expansive window of the apartment's living area and stared out over the brightly illuminated Cardiff Bay skyline, lost in his thoughts of his life, his job, and Jack. Still tired from a week of mostly sleepless nights, he'd eventually returned to bed, curled up under the covers, and promptly drifted off once more.

He drew in another deep breath as his mind replayed the events of the previous evening, recalling every detail and sensation with near-perfect clarity. Despite being confused and overwhelmed, he didn't have any regrets. As unfamiliar, confronting and intimidating as it had all been, he'd enjoyed every moment. He'd loved that it was new and different, unlike anything he'd done before, and he'd relished the visceral thrill of exploring this previously unknown frontier of intimacy and pleasure.

His lips curled into a smile and he shifted his hips, rubbing himself against the bed as his arousal increased. It was an experience he didn't want to ever forget, and as the sensual imagery flickered across his thoughts, he tried to etch every nuance into the forefront of his mind.

It wasn't long before he was fiercely aroused again. With his eyes still closed, he turned onto his back, pushed the bed covers out of the way, and tugged down his pyjamas. He touched himself, imagining it was Jack's hand rather than his own, and continued to replay his memories as he established a rhythm of firm, slow strokes. He climaxed embarrassingly quickly, Jack's name on his lips, his soft moans filling the otherwise silent room as spasms of pleasure coursed over his body.

This time he felt no sense of shame or overwhelming horror. The more he thought about it, he realised that Jack being a man didn't really matter. Although he found Jack's looks and masculinity ridiculously arousing, he was also attracted to Jack as a person, not just as a man. And nothing about being with Jack had felt wrong or unpleasant.

Trailing his fingers lazily over his warm skin, he recalled Jack's words about the unimportance of labels. While his mind inherently rebelled at his inability to define this new aspect of himself, he considered that perhaps Jack was right, and it didn't really matter. He'd simply discovered that his sexuality was a little more fluid than he'd previously thought. Given his job, what he'd seen and what he knew was out there, the fact that he'd enjoyed intimacy with another man seemed almost absurdly and prosaically mundane. In retrospect, he decided it was more the shock and suddenness of the realisation that had sent him reeling, and less the realisation itself.

He hadn't dragged some random bloke into his bed. Jack was someone he'd known for six months, and whom he liked, cared about, respected, and trusted, despite the man's many flaws. Besides, the idea of random, casual sex had never appealed to him, and he felt safe with Jack. The older man had an entirely uninhibited outlook about sex – plus a vast and probably gratuitous, checkered sexual history – but Ianto had known instinctively that Jack would never pressure him to do anything he didn't want. In fact, Jack had been surprisingly sensitive and mindful of his lack of experience. He'd seen a different side of Jack, and it was one he hoped to see again soon.

Climbing out of bed, he retreated to the bathroom, stripped off his pyjamas, and took a long, hot shower. He didn't know what the rules were, or what was meant to happen next. He was on completely uncharted territory, and even more so because of Jack's uniqueness. He also had no idea what Jack might want. They weren't dating, nor were they following any semblance of conventionality, all of which left him adrift, with no solid basis for comparison.

Ianto was at heart a traditional sort of bloke. He'd assumed that he'd meet someone special, eventually marry and settle down, and maybe even have some kids someday. His relationship with Lisa had been conventional, almost boringly so, and although they'd been young, he'd anticipated that they'd have a future together. Given how well that had turned out, he couldn't help but wonder if conventionality was overrated. Especially with his job, which was hardly conducive to a stable, trusting relationship.

He'd longed for something different, he realised. That was in part why he'd so quickly embraced his return to Cardiff and his job at Torchwood Three. He certainly didn't do things by halves, he thought wryly. Being involved with Jack Harkness was as different as he could possibly get.

After a thorough scrub, Ianto turned off the shower and dried himself, enjoying the feel of the thick, soft towel against his heated flesh. He wiped away the condensation from the mirror and stared at the hazy reflection of his boyish, painfully youthful features. Outwardly, nothing had changed, and yet he felt profoundly different in a way he couldn't precisely define. He still found it difficult to believe that Jack could be genuinely interested in him. While he didn't consider himself to be unattractive, he definitely wasn't in Jack's league, despite the other man's flirtation and flattery.

Jack wouldn't have any trouble finding willing bedmates, and if all he wanted was sex, he could find it in other ways. Working together meant that whatever happened between them would be inherently complicated, and Jack had admitted he preferred not to become involved with work colleagues. There was also the complication of Ianto being on assignment from Torchwood London. If it was discovered he and Jack were involved, and that his loyalty was therefore compromised... well, he didn't want to think about the consequences. He doubted even Jack could protect him from Yvonne Hartman's wrath.

Breathing out a sigh, Ianto turned away from the mirror and padded back to the bedroom. His mind twisted with a seemingly endless list of unanswerable questions. He was over-analysing everything as he always tended to do. Anyway, their encounter had possibly been a one-off. Jack might have satisfied his urge and have no interest in anything further, or he might have decided the two of them being involved was a monumentally bad idea, in which case it was a moot subject. They'd go back to being colleagues, hopefully continue to be friends, and that would be the end of it.

Reaching into his wardrobe to find clothes for the day, he retrieved a pair of jeans, but paused indecisively. He knew he'd spend the entire day worrying about the inevitable awkwardness of seeing Jack at work on Monday morning. It would be better to get it over with, and Jack would need help with settling their pet into its new home. The decision made, he put back the jeans and reached for a suit.

###

Ianto entered the Hub forty minutes later, and immediately wished he could turn around and go home again.

The place looked like a war-zone. Furniture was scattered in disarray, there was paper, files, and random detritus everywhere, and the previously neatly organised contents of his desk, including his computer, which appeared to be damaged beyond repair, was strewn across the floor. Even the Hub's heavy, worn sofa had been upended.

Staring in open-mouthed horror, Ianto's senses were assaulted by the combination of the loud screeching of an unhappy pterodactyl and a large pile of what looked and smelled suspiciously like reptilian excrement at the base of the invisible lift. "What the hell..." he muttered, continuing to stare around at the devastation.

A harried looking Jack jogged over from where he'd been standing near the water tower. "Ianto, what are you doing here?"

Ianto didn't respond immediately. Looking at Jack with unease, his stomach churned uncomfortably, and he wondered what the appropriate etiquette was for greeting a boss after the intimacy they'd shared the night before. He cringed inwardly, only just managing to resist the urge to nervously shuffle his feet. It felt like some sort of absurd cliché, and it was definitely not a situation he'd ever imagined finding himself in. Falling back on his innate reserved nature, he cleared his throat and schooled his features in a mask of stoic geniality. Regardless of what happened between them, he was determined to maintain his professionalism during work hours.

"Er... thought I'd help you get the new pet settled in." He raised an eyebrow as he continued to survey the mess. "Seems you have the situation well in hand, sir."

"She's just a little cranky this morning, that's all," Jack retorted defensively, his hands on his hips, and a scowl creasing his forehead.

Ianto just stared at the other man incredulously. "How do you know its gender?" he eventually asked.

"I looked while she was still sedated. Definitely female." Jack shrugged, a hint of a pout tugging his lips forward. "She doesn't seem to like me very much."

Ianto rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, you did stick a bloody big needle in her leg."

Jack just shrugged again, looking unrepentant. Then a devious smirk played across his lips. "Since you're here, any chance of some coffee? Then you can help me tame this pet dinosaur of yours."

"Mine?" Ianto asked in outrage, narrowing his eyes. "Why is she mine?"

"You found her. Finders keepers. That's the rule." Jack pulled off the thick leather gauntlets he was wearing and passed them to Ianto. "Here. I'll be in my office." He turned and strode away, nimbly dodging around the debris littering the Hub's floor.

"Jack!" Ianto shouted at the other man's rapidly retreating form. "Jack!"

Sending the man a death glare, Ianto looked up in despair at the agitated creature circling the top of the water tower. He decided it was going to be a very long day. With a resigned sigh, he straightened his shoulders and headed for the coffee machine, thankful that it appeared to still be intact.

###

After Ianto had managed to coax Jack out of his office with coffee and a plateful of his favourite biscuits, and once their pterodactyl had calmed down and stopped screeching, the day slowly began to improve.

Jack had attached a band with an embedded tracking device to the creature's ankle, and he presented Ianto with a small, rectangular device much like a garage door remote which at the press of a button emitted an ultrasonic tone – effectively an electronic dog whistle. He had a matching one of his own and he assured Ianto that the sound was unpleasant but not harmful to the reptile. As Ianto busied himself with cleaning up the worst of the mess, he used the device each time the pterodactyl looked like she was about to inflict damage on the Hub or on them. She seemed to slowly get the message, and by later that morning, she'd settled on warily observing them. And after he'd encouraged Jack to feed her some dark chocolate, she seemed to regard the Captain in a more favourable light.

There was a convenient cave-like alcove on the far side of the Hub which they decided to set up as a nest. Ianto tasked Jack with procuring a supply of straw, along with enough fish for several days worth of meals, and set about cleaning the soon-to-be nest. Jack had muttered darkly about who was in charge, but when offered the alternative of cleaning up the Hub instead, he'd quickly made his exit.

It was early afternoon when Jack returned with an SUV full of straw and fish, along with sandwiches and donuts for their lunch. They'd just finished unloading everything, and Ianto was in the kitchen area, preparing a salmon with the protein sauce Jack had come up with for marking what was safe for the pterodactyl to eat, when he heard an anguished howl. "Ianto Jones!" Jack's voice bellowed.

Ianto dashed up to Jack's office in alarm to find Jack glaring at him accusingly, and gesturing dramatically at the floor beside his desk. "Ianto! Your dinosaur just pooped in my office!"

The expression on Jack's face was priceless and Ianto couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter. Jack glowered at him for a moment and then started chuckling as well. A minute later they were doubled over and leaning against one another, laughing uproariously. Toilet training their new pet was obviously going to be a challenge, but Ianto decided he was definitely warming to their precocious, reptilian friend.

The Rift was mercifully quiet, and they spent the rest of the afternoon setting up the pterodactyl's nest and attempting to train the creature in what she was allowed to eat. It was just after six p.m. when they were standing side-by-side on the walkway at the distant edge of the Hub, observing their pterodactyl curled up and soundly asleep in her new nest, apparently worn out from the day's frivolities.

"She's really quite beautiful," Ianto said quietly, smiling as he looked on in admiration, awestruck once more with the impossibility of having a living prehistoric creature in existence in the twenty-first century. With her brown, leathery wings folded and neatly tucked against her thin body, and her long, narrow head with its toothless beak curled against her belly, Ianto thought she looked rather adorable. "Myfanwy," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Huh, what was that?" Jack asked, looking at him curiously.

"Myfanwy," Ianto repeated. "That's what I've decided to call her." He shrugged his shoulders, smiling to himself at the irony. "It suits her."

Jack frowned. "My-fan-we?" he said slowly, causing Ianto to cringe at the terrible mangling of the name in Jack's oddly incongruous American accent.

"Muh-vahn-wi," Ianto corrected, pronouncing the name slowly.

"Muh-varn-wee," Jack said with a frown as he tried again.

Ianto resisted the urge to tease the other man. He was used to Jack's accent making Welsh names sound slightly off, his own name being a prime example. Although, he'd always kind of liked the unique way Jack said his name. "Near enough."

"I like it," Jack said with a bemused smile. "I like hearing you say it. All those beautiful Welsh vowels."

Ianto smiled back and then looked at Myfanwy again. "I don't want Torchwood London to know about her," he said after a moment. He doubted Yvonne Hartman would be interested in a prehistoric reptile, given her obsession with alien technology, but he shuddered as he imagined what might happen if anyone else got their hands on the unique creature. "She's a victim of the Rift. It's our job to protect her... to keep her safe," he added determinedly.

Ianto felt Jack's hand settle on his shoulder. "It'll be our secret, then."

Ianto nodded, glancing at Jack again as he enjoyed the warmth and reassurance of the other man's touch. "Our secret," he agreed.

###

Ianto was sitting at his desk a short while later. Having checked the logs for anything that might require their attention, he'd set to work on a spreadsheet to record Myfanwy's statistics and track her digestive process. He hoped that if he could accurately predict how long it took her to digest her meals, he could encourage her to leave the resulting deposits in an appropriate location, sufficiently far away from their work areas. He'd also started a journal to record everything he'd discovered about her so far, and to track her moods along with any other pertinent details.

He was so focused on his work, he didn't notice Jack walking up behind him until he heard the other man's voice close to his ear. "You work too hard."

"So do you," Ianto said, glancing up and over his shoulder at the older man.

"Join me for a drink?" Jack asked, his voice soft and surprisingly tentative, his hand once again resting lightly on Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto hesitated as he considered politely declining. He noted the time in the corner of his screen, realising it was later than he'd thought. After the long day of cleaning up the Hub and getting Myfanwy settled in, he was beginning to feel a little weary, and a drink sounded appealing. But he still wasn't sure how to relate to Jack in this new reality where they were... well, he didn't know what this thing between them was, assuming it was anything at all. Now that the work day was technically over, he felt flooded with uncertainty once more.

"All right," he replied, forcing a smile as he looked up at Jack again, and resolving to push past the awkwardness. He turned off his computer, and after taking a deep breath, he followed Jack into his office.

He sank down into the chair opposite Jack, watching as he poured generous measures of Scotch into two glasses and passed one across to him. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt of sensation coursing along Ianto's nerve-endings. Their eyes met and Ianto quickly averted his gaze, staring down into the contents of the glass. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking a generous sip and savouring the burn of the alcohol as it hit the back of his throat.

"Are you okay?"

Ianto looked up to find Jack leaning forward and scrutinising him intently. "Yes, I'm fine."

Jack nodded and took a sip from his glass, but looked unconvinced. "I wondered if you wanted to talk. About last night, I mean." He paused with a frown. "You're not having an existential crisis or anything?"

"No. Well, not yet anyway." Ianto smiled half-heartedly before becoming serious again. "I don't regret what happened, Jack." Before he could stop himself he added, "Do you?"

Jack shook his head. "No, not at all. I just need you to be sure this is what you want." He breathed out a long sigh. "Ianto, you're an exemplary employee. I also think of you as a friend, and over the last six months I've come to rely on you. Sometimes I'm not sure how I managed before you came along. I don't want to screw that up, and believe me, I have a long track record of screwing things up."

Ianto was touched by Jack's praise, and his honesty. He could also see the turmoil etched across Jack's features, the uncertainty in his eyes, and it reminded him of Jack's words the night before. _"This isn't easy. Not for me."_ Pondering those words and sensing Jack hadn't finished what he wanted to say, he slowly took another sip of his drink and waited.

Jack tossed back the rest of his Scotch and reclined in his chair. "We're both lonely, neither of us have anyone else, and we're obviously attracted to each other. I think this can be mutually beneficial. We can keep each other company, we can have fun together. But Torchwood is always going to take priority, and whatever happens, I can't offer you much. You need to understand that."

Ianto nodded. He didn't know anything about Jack's past relationships, of which he was sure there'd been many, but Jack didn't seem like someone who allowed himself to get too involved or attached. He had no idea what Jack had been like all those years ago when he'd first arrived in the nineteenth century, but he suspected that Jack had learned to harden his heart in order to protect himself from the pain of losing people.

He couldn't begin to imagine what it was like for Jack, knowing he'd outlive everyone he ever met. Ultimately, Jack was always going to be alone, and Ianto hated the thought of Jack being lonely and in pain. "I understand," he said carefully. "I'm not asking you for anything. There's no reason why we can't enjoy spending time together though?"

Jack looked at him doubtfully. "You're sure that's what you want?"

"I'm sure," Ianto agreed firmly.

Jack abruptly stood up and moved around the desk, leaning against the edge directly in front of Ianto. "You're a determined man, Ianto Jones. And an irresistible one. Those are both qualities I greatly admire."

"Do you, sir?" Ianto asked, looking up into Jack's eyes with a coy smile.

Jack smiled back and leaning down, he captured Ianto's face in his hands and kissed him firmly. Taken by surprise, Ianto took a moment to recover but quickly responded with enthusiasm. Blindly putting his glass down on the desk, he wrapped his arms around Jack's neck and pulled him closer, enjoying the combination of the Scotch and Jack's unique taste as their tongues caressed one another.

Jack chuckled ruefully as the kiss ended, his fingers trailing gently along the side of Ianto's face in the now familiar gesture. "You're not good for my sanity, you know," he murmured.

He sighed, and with apparent reluctance, withdrew his hand and moved back to his side of the desk. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should take things slowly. For both our sakes. Give ourselves time to get used to this arrangement."

Ianto nodded, feeling a little disappointed, but also somewhat relieved. "Probably for the best," he agreed.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Ianto rose to his feet. "Well, I should go then. Thanks for the drink, Jack."

Jack nodded and sat down again. "Any time. Take tomorrow off, Ianto. Get some rest."

"Jack..." Ianto began to protest, but the other man raised his hand, cutting him off.

"You weren't supposed to work today. I'm glad you were here to help, but you need your time off. I'll call you if I need anything."

Ianto frowned. "Can I trust you and Myfanwy not to tear the place apart again?"

"We'll be on our best behaviour, I promise. Besides, we're best buddies now." Jack gave him a cheeky smile and winked. "Actually, I think she's secretly quite besotted with me. She just doesn't want you to get jealous."

Ianto rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure that's it, sir. Just make sure you keep the dark chocolate at the ready."

Jack made a shooing gesture. "We'll be fine. Go. Get that gorgeous arse of yours out of here before I change my mind."

"Harassment, sir," Ianto quipped, glancing over his shoulder as he left Jack's office and made his way over to his desk.

"You love it," he heard Jack call out a moment later. Ianto smiled to himself as he gathered up his belongings and pulled on his coat. He really did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Notes: **Hope you all enjoy this. It's another fairly long chapter. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**March 29th, 2004**_

Sitting on the large steps at the edge of the Plass, Ianto was enjoying the unusually warm spring day as he munched unhurriedly on the fish and chips he'd bought for his lunch. After having a relaxing sleep-in, he'd spent the remainder of the morning catching up on cleaning and laundry before deciding to head out for a leisurely walk.

He often felt at a bit of a loss on his days off, and although he appreciated Jack's insistence about having time away from work, he would have preferred to be at the Hub. He also couldn't help but feel a little guilty when Jack didn't get the same opportunity for some well-deserved downtime. With Jack and Myfanwy left to their own devices for the entire day, he was also worried about what state the Hub would be in by the following morning.

He'd considered stopping in for a quick visit to check on things, using the pretence of dropping off some lunch for Jack, but he'd ultimately rejected the idea. He knew he'd only receive a rebuke for his efforts. He worried about Jack when he wasn't there to look after him, and while the man was neither inept or lazy, he didn't seem to place much importance on his own well-being. Jack couldn't die, at least not permanently, or even get sick from hunger or poor nutrition, but that wasn't really the point. And despite Jack's often less than healthy diet, the man never seemed to put on an ounce of weight. Whether that was due to his unique condition, fifty-first century biology, or simply because of the amount of physical activity the job entailed, he had no idea. Nor was he as fortunate, but luckily he had a fast metabolism and the stamina of youth on his side.

Popping a couple of chips into his mouth, Ianto gazed at the shimmering water tower on the opposite side of the Plass, and chewed thoughtfully. He'd always had a curious and inquisitive mind. He liked to know things, to understand, to surround himself with the security that indisputable knowledge provided. There was so much about Jack he wanted to know, but Ianto was an intensely private person, and he'd always respected the privacy of others. He wasn't one to press or pry, and whatever else he was going to learn about Jack would have to happen naturally, in its own time. He'd have to be patient, although he wasn't sure how much Jack actually trusted him yet. Jack may have lowered his guard somewhat, but he was clearly still cautious and reticent. It was quite possible that would never change.

A young man and woman walked past, both about Ianto's age, holding hands while chatting and laughing happily. Ianto felt a pang of wistfulness as he watched them. Not long ago, that could have been him and Lisa, and now it seemed like a lifetime away. He wondered if he'd ever find something like that again.

Continuing to eat distractedly, he thought back to the last conversation he'd had with Jack. He'd been thinking about that quite a lot. A 'mutually beneficial arrangement', Jack had called it. Companionship and fun – simple, casual, no strings attached. It wasn't really his style, but he was tired of being lonely, and he was done with trying to deny the intense attraction he felt for the other man. Deep down, he knew getting involved with his boss was foolish in the extreme, and that he was letting desire override his common sense. But on the other hand, he wasn't ready to get into anything serious again. Fun and casual sounded good. It sounded like exactly what he needed.

Determinedly pushing aside all thoughts of Torchwood and Jack, he finished his lunch, then deposited the rubbish in a nearby bin. He looked around indecisively for a minute or so, wondering what to do with the rest of the day. After the confusing, tumultuous week he'd just had, he decided he deserved a treat. A new men's tailoring shop had recently opened in the city centre – a local branch of a well-known Savile Row tailor no less – and although it was an extravagance, he'd been itching to check them out.

With no immediate sign of rain in the sky above, he left the Plass behind and headed purposely on foot towards the central shopping district, losing himself in pleasant contemplation of fabrics, colours, styles and cuts. He was going to buy himself a new suit.

###

Ianto closed his diary and stared at the cover for a moment, then put it down on the coffee table and sprawled back on the sofa. Having finished writing down his thoughts about the last few days, he felt more relaxed and settled. The afternoon had also been an enjoyable one, furthering his contented mood. His new bespoke suit would be ready in three weeks time, and he'd indulged in purchasing several new shirts and ties to go with it. He liked to look his best, and although the new clothing was for his own pleasure, he couldn't deny that he was looking forward to showing the new outfits to Jack. He ruefully wondered when the other man's opinion had become so important to him.

Glancing down at his watch and noting it was just after eight p.m., he realised he should probably think about making some dinner. He considered his options, not feeling overly hungry after his substantial lunch. Trying to decide between scrambled eggs on toast or a bacon sandwich, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud, insistent knock at the door. Frowning at the unexpected intrusion, he made his way to the door and opened it to find an agitated looking Jack staring back at him.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Ianto ushered him inside and closed the door. "Is Myfanwy okay? Please tell me the pair of you haven't decimated the Hub again."

"She's fine. Everything's fine," Jack replied brusquely. He glanced around the apartment before meeting Ianto's eyes again. "I shouldn't be here."

"I don't mind." Ianto shrugged as he looked at Jack worriedly. Noting the tense set of Jack's jaw and the troubled look in his eyes, he tried to think of a possible explanation for the man's strange mood. "I was just about to make some dinner if you..."

He let out what he would firmly deny was an unmanly yelp as Jack suddenly pushed him up against the wall adjacent to the door, clasped his face in both hands, and kissed him hard on the lips. Recovering quickly, Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack and kissed him back, willingly parting his lips as Jack's tongue pressed insistently against them.

They kissed frantically, hands moving restlessly over each other's bodies while Jack's solid weight held him firmly against the wall. Ianto was sure it was at least several minutes later when they finally broke apart with a gasp. Jack shrugged off his greatcoat and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor, then his hands tugged insistently at the bottom of Ianto's shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his jeans, and sliding beneath to stroke the bare skin of his abdomen.

"Jack..." Ianto murmured, only just managing to suppress a groan of pleasure. "Er... I think our definitions of taking things slowly might be slightly different."

"Slow is overrated," Jack muttered as he pressed his mouth against the side of Ianto's throat, kissing and nipping along his jawline until their lips met again. After another furious kiss that left Ianto's heart racing and his crotch almost unbearably tight, Jack pulled back enough for their eyes to meet. "Gods, Ianto. I can't stop thinking about you."

Ianto felt his eyes widen with incredulity. "I've been thinking about you too," he admitted, slightly taken aback by the hungry look in the dark pools of Jack's eyes.

Jack caressed his hands up the front of Ianto's shirt, but paused just before sliding the first button from its hole. As if suddenly realising what he was doing and worried he'd crossed a line, he looked at Ianto with an uncertain expression. "If you want me to stop, you can tell me. It's okay. I..."

Ianto shook his head and pressed his lips firmly against Jack's, cutting off anything further he was going to say. "I don't want you to stop," he said quietly and with a certainty that surprised him.

The hesitation vanished from Jack's features, replaced with a slow, devilish smile. "Good," he murmured, sounding relieved. "That's good."

Quickly and nimbly, Jack unbuttoned Ianto's shirt and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor behind them. The t-shirt Ianto was wearing beneath immediately followed. Jack trailed his hands teasingly over Ianto's chest, teasing his nipples and causing Ianto to moan appreciatively, before capturing Ianto's mouth once more. Ianto pushed down Jack's braces and tugged at his shirts, frustrated by his lack of coordination as Jack's lips and tongue proved to be an overwhelming distraction.

Jack chuckled, breaking the kiss. "Eager, huh?"

"You're wearing too many clothes," Ianto muttered as he turned his attention to the buttons of Jack's shirt.

Jack laughed again and quickly finished the job, tossing away both of his shirts in a single fluid movement before pushing Ianto up against the wall again, pressing their bodies together, and claiming his mouth in another heated kiss.

Ianto splayed his hands over the warm skin of Jack's back and held him close, losing himself in the moment. Jack's fingers worked at unfastening his jeans and he gasped as Jack's hand pushed beneath his underwear, fondling and stroking him determinedly. Sliding his hands downwards, Ianto managed to unfasten Jack's belt and then his trousers, pushing them and Jack's underwear down to his knees. After some awkward stumbling while continuing to kiss and grasp at one another, they managed to rid themselves of their remaining clothing. With the full length of Jack's naked body now moving against his own equally naked form, Ianto was struggling to maintain a single coherent thought beyond how shockingly easy Jack could reduce him to a mass of wanton desire.

With a playful tug at Ianto's lower lip, Jack's mouth shifted downwards, sliding along his throat and continuing to trail down his body. Before Ianto could register Jack's intentions, the other man was on his knees, his hands pressed against Ianto's hips, and moving his tongue along the length of Ianto's erection before greedily taking him into his mouth.

"Oh, God," Ianto murmured with a breathless moan, thumping his head back against the wall as Jack's hot, wet mouth surrounded him. Jack's tongue caressed and stroked as his head bobbed up and down, and it was soon clear to Ianto that he was receiving a demonstration of another one of Jack's particular talents.

Burying his hands in Jack's thick hair, Ianto closed his eyes and succumbed to the intense pleasure Jack was giving him. After a few all-too-brief minutes, Ianto felt the familiar coiling sensation deep within his body, and with a low, guttural groan, he shuddered and climaxed, spilling his release into Jack's mouth. Jack continued his ministrations, milking Ianto until he had nothing left, and finally drawing back with a lewd popping sound. He looked up at Ianto, grinning before running his tongue provocatively over his lips, causing Ianto's breath to hitch in his throat.

Jack was then on his feet again, pulling Ianto close and kissing him feverishly. Ianto could taste himself as he pushed his tongue deep into Jack's mouth, and he was surprised to find the sensation intensely erotic.

"Well, you obviously enjoyed that," Jack said with a hint of a self-satisfied smirk after they pulled apart a couple of minutes later.

"Yeah, ah... that was... um... amazing," Ianto replied, stumbling over his words as he struggled to express how incredible the experience had really been. "I'd like to try that sometime," he added a little timidly, imagining their roles reversed and finding the thought arousing. "Might need some practice though."

Jack chuckled, grinning at him with obvious delight. "Any time you want. And practice does make perfect."

Ianto grinned back, but glancing downwards at where Jack's neglected erection was pressed against his stomach, he suddenly felt guilty. He reached down and gave Jack a tentative stroke. "Want me to help with that?"

"Yeah," Jack murmured, pivoting his hips and rubbing himself against Ianto's hand. "Please."

Ianto kissed Jack again, and feeling more confident this time around, he worked his hand along Jack's length, wanting to give Jack as much pleasure as he'd just received himself. Holding his other hand around the nape of Jack's neck, he teased his fingers over the warm skin as their lips continued to move against each other. It wasn't long before Jack trembled and groaned, spurting over their stomachs and Ianto's hand.

Pulling away, Ianto ducked down to grab a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. Looking up at Jack, he was rewarded with a soft, satisfied smile. He fussed for a few moments, quickly cleaning them both before Jack pulled him back into his arms. They clung to each other in a tight embrace, their cheeks pressed together. Ianto breathed in deeply, thinking he could stay like that for hours, simply wrapped in Jack's wonderfully comforting warmth and scent.

He was just about to ask Jack again if he wanted to stay for some dinner, hoping they could perhaps indulge in another round or two afterwards, when Jack's wrist-strap beeped insistently, the normally soft, innocuous sound seeming abnormally loud in the quiet space of the apartment.

Jack pulled back and glanced down at his wrist, punching a couple of buttons and peering at the tiny display. "Damn it. Rift alert." He sighed and gave Ianto an apologetic look. "I've gotta go. I'm sorry, Ianto."

Ianto breathed out a sigh of his own, but mustered an understanding smile. "It's okay. Duty calls."

Jack shook his head, a frustrated scowl marring his features. "It's not okay, but I'll make it up to you, I promise. We'll continue this another time, all right?"

Ianto nodded, reaching for his clothes and starting to pull them on as Jack did the same. "I'll look forward to it."

They both quickly dressed and Ianto helped Jack into his greatcoat, carefully adjusting and smoothing out the shoulders. Jack captured Ianto's face in his hands and gave him a brief but passionate kiss.

"Jack?" Ianto said as the other man opened the door. Jack paused and looked back at him. "Be careful out there, yeah?"

Jack smiled and nodded. "Always."

The door closed, and Jack was gone just as abruptly as he'd arrived. Ianto slumped back against the wall as he distractedly buttoned up his shirt. "Bloody Torchwood," he muttered.

###

_**April 8th, 2004**_

It was a week and a half later, and Ianto was sitting at his desk in the archives after lunch, absently sorting through one of the many boxes of minor alien debris he'd collected in his efforts to organise Torchwood Three's sprawling repository of artefacts. His heart definitely wasn't in the task at hand. He was frustrated, he was antsy, and he was a little bit fed-up. And it was all Jack's fault. Except it wasn't, not really. But it also kind of was.

The Rift had been going through one of its more active periods again, and Jack had been run ragged for the best part of the last ten days, trying to keep up. Ianto had been busy too, having been called on by Jack to help with administering retcon and fabricating cover stories, along with training and taking care of Myfanwy. Twice they'd planned to have an evening together, and both times the Rift had intervened.

He did have one particularly fond memory though. It had been late on Saturday night of the previous week and with Jack out dealing with a rogue Weevil, Ianto had decided to spend some time in the firing range, sharpening his weaponry skills. He'd worked his way through a variety of guns when Jack had returned, and after firing off a few rounds himself, Jack had suggested an impromptu training session. Ianto had readily agreed, having missed their sessions over the previous few weeks. After changing into their training gear, Jack had worked Ianto through their usual repertoire of defensive moves, adding a couple of new ones to the mix. It was about an hour later when Ianto had managed to send Jack tumbling onto the mats, then quickly followed when he'd overstepped and lost his balance. Their training session had then degenerated into an energetic but playful wrestling match.

One thing had lead to another, and before long they'd been frantically pulling at each other's clothes until they were both naked and clinging to each other as they rolled around on the floor. With their limbs tangled as they'd grasped and explored each other's sweat-slicked skin, they'd worked furiously to get each other off while exchanging rough, frenzied kisses.

Eventually, both of them spent and sated, they were laying side-by-side on their backs and chuckling at the absurdity of it all. Jack had then challenged him to a race to the showers, and immediately sprinted off, entirely heedless of his naked state. Ianto, on the other hand, refused to act in such an undignified manner. He'd quickly redressed and made his way to the Hub's main bathroom at a more respectable pace. On his arrival, Jack had stripped him of his clothes again, and they'd shared a long, enjoyable shower together before the Rift had inevitably intervened once more.

Ianto smiled at the memory. It had been an undeniably thrilling encounter, and one he definitely hoped to repeat, but it wasn't enough. He'd done some research in his spare time, reading in detail about the intricacies of sex between two men, and he felt that he was ready to take the next logical step. The idea of intercourse with Jack was intimidating and more than a little overwhelming, but he also found it intriguing, and he'd decided to be pragmatic about it. He was certain Jack would never pressure him, but it seemed like an inevitable progression, and he wanted to experience it with Jack.

It seemed pointless to wait until it became something more awkward and bigger than it really was. But he also wanted the experience to be unhurried, enjoyable, and memorable. He could march into Jack's office right now, drop his trousers, bend himself over Jack's desk, and they could just get on with it. A part of him was tempted to do precisely that. That would be exciting and satisfying in its own way, it might even be rather fun, but it wasn't what he wanted for a first time. He hoped it wasn't what Jack wanted either.

Scratching distractedly at the back of his neck, he decided all he could do was hope that the third time was indeed the charm. It seemed like the Rift had finally settled down again, and he hoped that meant they'd have at least a brief reprieve.

With renewed determination, he tapped on his keyboard to open an instant message window, and stared at the blinking cursor as he waited patiently. The last time he'd seen Jack, he'd been sitting in his office and catching up on a backlog of paperwork, so he hoped he was still there.

_JHarkness: Ianto, everything ok down there?_

Ianto rapidly typed a reply.

_IJones: Yup. So, I was wondering... any plans tonight?_

_JHarkness: Just the usual. Pizza. Save the world a couple of times. Fantasise about a certain young Welshman. Why? Got something in mind?_

Ianto rolled his eyes. Coy really didn't suit the Captain, but it was amusing nonetheless.

_IJones: Maybe._

_JHarkness: Naked hide and seek?_

Ianto felt his mouth fall open as he paused and tried to figure out how that would actually work. Two grown men running around completely naked seemed wrong on so many levels. Definitely too many bits bouncing around. Besides, he was sure Jack would cheat.

_IJones: No._

_JHarkness: Strip poker?_

Ianto had to admit that had possibilities, and he'd always thought he had an excellent poker face. He was fairly confident he'd be able to beat Jack, assuming the other man played fairly, although that seemed unlikely. Not that losing wouldn't have its advantages.

_IJones: Nope._

_JHarkness: Spoilsport._

Ianto grinned at Jack's predictability. Taking a deep breath, he quickly typed again.

_IJones: Dinner at my place? 8pm? I'll even cook something._

_JHarkness: You can cook?_

Ianto huffed and scowled at the screen. Just because he didn't choose to cook very often didn't mean he couldn't. He typed furiously again.

_IJones: Of course I can. Besides, we eat too much take-away. Might be a nice change._

Ianto bit down on his lip as he waited anxiously for Jack's response.

_JHarkness: Ianto Jones, are you asking me out on a date?_

Ianto rolled his eyes again, remembering the last time Jack had asked him that question. It was such a short time ago, and yet things had changed rather a lot since then. He stared at the screen uncertainly for a moment. They weren't dating or doing anything remotely conventional, but there didn't seem to be any reason why they couldn't have a nice evening together.

_IJones: Yes. And don't be late. Rift permitting._

Pressing the Enter key, Ianto hoped he hadn't stepped over some arbitrary line and edged into dangerous territory. He still wasn't sure what the rules were when it came to Jack.

_JHarkness: 8pm it is. Rift permitting._

Ianto let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, both surprised and relieved by Jack's simple but apparently sincere response.

_JHarkness: Ianto?_

Ianto frowned, hoping Jack hadn't already changed his mind. He sent back a reply.

_IJones: Yes, Jack?_

_JHarkness: I'm looking forward to it._

Ianto felt a smile spread across his face as he replied once more before closing the message window.

_IJones: Me too._


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Notes:** Well, it's date night for Jack and Ianto. :-) Enjoy! Special thanks to the brilliant Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback, suggestions and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

_**April 8th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto stood in his bathroom, staring critically at his reflection. He fiddled at length with his hair, adjusting the gelled tufts into a slightly more casual style than he wore at work. He smoothed his eyebrows, inspected and carefully trimmed his fingernails, quickly shaved again to remove the day's growth of stubble, trimmed and combed his sideburns, scrubbed at his face for a second time, cleaned his teeth furiously, and finally dabbed on a small amount of aftershave.

He rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, unrolled them again, sighed, and rolled them back up. Then he toyed with the top buttons of his dark red shirt, fastening all but the top most button. Deciding it looked too formal, he then unbuttoned the second one, adjusting the fabric as he wondered if too much of his chest hair was visible. His eyes lowered to his dark blue jeans. They were his best pair, and he wondered if they were a little too snug, although he'd always thought they looked good on him, accentuating his slim build and height. He looked at the studded leather belt he'd selected to complete the outfit, and he wondered if it was too suggestive. Rolling his eyes at himself, he sighed again, lowered his hands, and turned away from the mirror, flicking off the light, and returning to the kitchen.

Glancing around the compact kitchen, he double-checked everything was ready. He'd settled on Chicken Chow Mein for dinner; it was quick to cook and tasty, and he'd been able to prepare all the ingredients earlier. Jack liked Chinese food so a home-cooked alternative had seemed like a safe choice. The chicken was diced and waiting in the refrigerator, and everything else was neatly lined up on the shiny black marble bench-top, each ingredient prepared and in its own bowl, ready to be added to the fry pan at the correct moment.

His phone buzzed from where he'd left it next to the coffee machine, and he picked it up, opening the new text message.

_Hope you're cooking something delicious. All quiet here, leaving now. J._

Smiling to himself, Ianto shook his head in amusement before putting the phone down again. His eyes settled on the bottle of red wine he'd bought on the way home. It had been an extravagance at thirty quid, but he'd wanted to get something nice. Staring at it for a long moment, he realised it would be the first time he'd had wine since breaking up with Lisa. His preference was usually beer, or some decent Scotch on occasion, although he quite enjoyed a good-quality wine too.

Thinking of Lisa, the familiar pain was far less acute than it had been not long ago, but he immediately pushed the thought aside. He'd ponder that further when he wasn't expecting his boss to arrive on his doorstep at any moment.

Deciding to check the wine was okay, he deftly opened the bottle and filled a third of a glass. He took a generous sip, allowing the intense, slightly woody flavour to roll around his tongue before swallowing. He felt unaccountably nervous. He knew it wasn't really a date, he and Jack weren't dating, they were just friends. Well, a bit more than friends, but they weren't together. Anyway, the idea of dating another man seemed weird, not in general terms, but specifically for him. Sex was one thing, but the idea of dating Jack seemed rather ludicrous. Jack didn't really seem like someone who went on dates, although Ianto assumed he must have at some point in his long life.

He was also anxious about how the later part of the evening would play out. He knew what he wanted to happen, but he wasn't sure how to go about broaching the subject. He hoped an opportunity would present itself. Regardless, he was looking forward to an evening alone with Jack, outside of work – a tiny slice of normality in their unconventional lives – and something to help him put this unusual relationship he had with Jack into a framework of familiarity he could better understand.

True to his word, Jack arrived on time. After closing the door and helping the older man out of his coat, Ianto felt his mouth become dry as he took in Jack's appearance. Jack was wearing a navy shirt with the two top buttons open, his usual white undershirt conspicuously absent, a teasing expanse of firm, bare skin in its place. Instead of his 1940's style trousers, Jack was wearing a pair of snug-fitting jeans. They weren't overly dark in colour, a couple of shades lighter than what Ianto was wearing, and they framed Jack's hips and crotch to perfection. A black leather belt and matching shoes completed the outfit, both a sharp contrast to Jack's usual grey braces and tan-coloured boots. Ianto swallowed hard, momentarily losing the ability to speak.

Jack smiled, looking annoyingly pleased with himself as his eyes roamed over Ianto in their usual less than subtle manner. "Wow! You look gorgeous, Ianto. Love the shirt."

Stepping closer, Jack traced the tips of his fingers down Ianto's open collar, lingering over the exposed skin, and causing Ianto to shiver in anticipation.

"Thanks, Jack." Ianto managed to recover his composure, smiling self-consciously as he looked into Jack's eyes. "I've been told red is my colour," he quipped. "I, um... I like your jeans... very smart."

Jack shrugged. "Haven't worn them in a while." He stepped back and spun around dramatically. "Not bad, huh?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

Ianto simply nodded, a retort about Jack's lack of modesty dying on his lips, his mind far too preoccupied with the arousing sight in front of him.

"So, what's for dinner?" Jack asked, taking a step closer again.

Ianto cleared his throat and moved towards the kitchen. "Chicken Chow Mein. Is that okay?"

"Mmm. Sounds great."

Jack followed him into the kitchen and peered at the various bowls of ingredients. Meanwhile, Ianto donned his white apron, retrieved the chicken from the refrigerator, then turned on the heat for the fry pan.

"It doesn't take long to cook." Ianto gestured towards the sofa. "Watch some telly if you like. There's wine if you want to pour yourself a glass."

Jack nodded and half-filled both glasses, taking a sniff from one and then a sip. He made an appreciative noise and moved to stand close behind Ianto, his hand settling casually over Ianto's hip. A shiver ran up Ianto's spine as Jack's warm breath teased the sensitive skin of his neck just below his ear. "I'll keep you company. I want to see these culinary skills of yours for myself."

Ianto huffed slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Jack before returning his attention to the sizzling chicken in the fry pan. "All right, but don't distract me. You're, ah... well, you can be very distracting at times."

Jack chuckled with obvious amusement. "I'll behave myself."

Ianto sincerely doubted that, but he proceeded to prepare their dinner while Jack watched on, apparently fascinated by the entire process. He stayed close to Ianto, but didn't make any overt gestures beyond the occasional casual touch of his hand. Although Ianto did have to slap Jack's hand away a few times when he tried to sneakily sample the food before it was cooked.

"Almost ready," Ianto announced a short while later, having stirred in the noodles and adjusted the heat. He turned around to face Jack and accepted the glass of wine Jack passed him, taking a sip. "Thanks."

"You've been holding out on me, Mr. Jones," Jack said, looking at him appraisingly. "What other talents are you hiding behind that composed exterior?"

Ianto smirked. "Oh, there's a few."

"I bet there are," Jack said, his blue eyes bright and teasing as his expression turned slightly lecherous. "I'm looking forward to discovering each and every one of them."

Feeling a surge of heat rise to his cheeks, Ianto quickly turned back to the food. "Right, this is ready. Can you take the wine over to the table, Jack? I'll bring the food."

"Okay," Jack replied, collecting their glasses and the bottle.

Ianto distributed generous portions onto their plates and carried them over to the sofa, having already placed cutlery and napkins on the coffee table earlier. He passed a plate to Jack and settled down beside him, tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt and giving Jack a significant look. Jack pulled a face at him, but then reluctantly did the same. Ianto grinned at the minor victory.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, Jack devoured two helpings along with a second glass of wine, praising Ianto's cooking enthusiastically as he ate. Ianto couldn't help feeling a little bit flattered, having never received such unequivocal praise for his cooking efforts before.

Jack sighed contentedly and leaned back into the sofa, resting his hand on Ianto's knee and tilting his head to look at him. "It's been a long time since anyone's cooked for me. Thanks."

Ianto smiled and rested his hand over Jack's. "You're welcome. I enjoyed it. It's more fun when you have someone to cook for."

"That's true," Jack agreed. "I'll have to return the favour sometime."

"You mean, cook something for me?" Ianto asked in surprise and Jack nodded. Ianto quirked an eyebrow. "Will my kitchen survive the experience?"

Jack laughed. "I think so. But you'll be there to keep me in line. You're good at that."

"I suppose it could be worth the risk," Ianto said, chuckling slightly as he tried unsuccessfully to conjure up the image of Jack in an apron and cooking him dinner.

"Good," Jack said, looking oddly excited by the prospect. "Now, what's for dessert?"

###

Ianto rolled his eyes when Jack grinned mischievously and produced another Buffy DVD. He started watching an episode while Ianto did some quick cleaning up, having refused Jack's offer to help, assuring him it would only take a couple of minutes. Serving up portions of the apple and cinnamon cake he'd bought on his way home, accompanied by cups of his best coffee, he settled down next to Jack again and they watched the show.

Jack eagerly consumed his cake and coffee, accompanied by further murmurings of appreciation. The episode finished and Ianto thumbed off the television, glancing at Jack a little nervously as he put the remote down on the table.

"Come here," Jack said, seizing Ianto's arms and pulling him into his lap.

Their lips met as Ianto settled himself between Jack's thighs. They kissed hungrily until Jack's fingers began working at the buttons of Ianto's shirt. Ianto pulled back, giving Jack better access, simultaneously turning his attention to Jack's shirt. Freeing the last button from its hole, Ianto pushed the fabric aside and traced his hand over the bare flesh of Jack's torso, while Jack did the same, teasing his fingers through the expanse of dark hair adorning Ianto's abdomen and chest.

Looking down at their bodies, Ianto was once again struck by the marked contrast between them. He looked into Jack's eyes, feeling a sudden stab of insecurity. "You don't mind that I'm a bit... well, a bit hairy?"

"Hell, no," Jack murmured, his hands continuing to explore Ianto's chest enthusiastically. "I love it. It's gorgeous and very sexy." When Ianto raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he added, "Hair on men isn't as common where I come from as it is here. The downside of a few thousand years of evolution I suppose."

Ianto nodded, feeling relieved and enjoying the sensation of Jack's warm hands against his skin. He'd quickly realised that Jack was a very tactile person, somewhat unlike himself, but he was surprised by how much he liked Jack touching him, and how much he enjoyed touching Jack. "I used to shave it all the time," he admitted.

"Why?" Jack asked, resting his hands on the sides of Ianto's chest and looking horrified by the suggestion.

Ianto shrugged. "Lisa didn't like it. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things about me she didn't like very much."

"Well, I love it," Jack said firmly. "Don't try to change yourself, Ianto. Not for anyone. And especially not for me."

Ianto nodded, sighing ruefully. "Sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her. It's just that I was thinking about her today."

"It's okay, you can talk about her if you want." Jack looked at him intently. "Do you still miss her?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, not really. I did... but... I think I'm finally realising we were never a good fit... that it wasn't going to work."

He smiled down at Jack, feeling more content than he had in a long time as he realised the truth of his words. Jack seemed to genuinely like him for who he was, and he could just be himself with Jack when they were together like this. As much as he'd loved Lisa, he'd often felt inadequate, like she was trying to change him into the person she wanted him to be. "I'm where I want to be, Jack," he said with certainty, leaning in and kissing him again.

"Bedroom?" Jack asked as their kiss eventually ended, his fingers stroking over the soft skin at the base of Ianto's back.

"Bedroom," Ianto agreed, standing up and offering Jack his hand.

After quickly divesting each other of their clothes, they sprawled out on the bed, with Ianto on top of Jack. They kissed passionately, both of them hard as their bodies moved against one another.

Jack's fingers trailed down Ianto's spine and settled on his buttocks. Ianto moaned into Jack's mouth as he felt Jack's fingers spread his cheeks and tease the tight ring of muscle at his entrance, sending a shudder of excitement coursing through him.

"Jack," Ianto began nervously as their lips parted. "Obviously I've never done this before, but I... I want to feel you inside me."

Jack looked surprised. "Are you sure? There's no rush, you know. There's plenty of other things we can do." He grinned playfully. "And I don't mind doing it the other way around. I'm a flexible guy."

Ianto matched Jack's grin with one of his own. "I'll keep that in mind, but..." He paused awkwardly. "I want to try it. I've had fantasies too, you know."

Jack laughed and looked impressed. "Have you now?"

"Yeah." Ianto nodded, trailing his fingers down Jack's chest.

"You're sure?" Jack asked again, looking at him searchingly.

Ianto nodded once more. "Seems silly to wait any longer. I, uh... I've got the necessities." He pulled away from Jack and opened the top drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a tube of lubricant and a packet of condoms. Turning back towards Jack, he tentatively proffered the items.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "So, you planned this, huh?" A teasing grin spread across his features. "Decided to get me drunk, and have your way with me?"

"Something like that," Ianto replied, grinning back and feeling some of his anxiety ease.

Jack chuckled, but then he became serious again, looking into Ianto's eyes with what seemed to be hesitation. "Ianto... since you know about me... I have natural immunity to diseases from this time period, plus others that don't even exist yet... so we don't need to use protection. Actually, I'd like it if we didn't, but we can if you want to... I want you to feel comfortable about everything we do together."

"Oh," Ianto replied in surprise, but realised it made sense given that Jack had several thousand years of evolution and medical advancement on his side.

"Of course, you should always be safe when you're with other people," Jack continued hastily. "But when you're with me, it's not something you need to worry about."

Ianto nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Jack asked cautiously.

"I trust you." Ianto smiled. "Besides, it will feel better, and it's my first time. Might as well make the most of it."

Jack captured Ianto's face in his hands and kissed him. Taking the items from Ianto, he tossed the packet onto the table and held onto the lubricant. He kissed Ianto again, more gently this time. "Turn over onto your stomach."

Ianto nodded and rolled over, turning his head and glancing up at Jack, feeling a swell of nervous anticipation. He was about to be buggered by a man... a man who couldn't die, who travelled in time, who came from thousands of years in the future, who was over eight times his age, and who also happened to be his boss. He was pretty certain his life couldn't get any more bizarre.

Jack looked down at him with a reassuring smile. "If you feel uncomfortable, or you don't like it, just tell me to stop, okay? It might hurt a little at first, but if it's too much, I'll stop."

"Okay," Ianto agreed, resting his head on the pillow as Jack's hands caressed down his back.

Jack was surprisingly gentle as he prepared him, slowly working a single slick finger inside him before adding a second, and eventually a third. The sensation was strange and new, but not unpleasant. Ianto's initial tension quickly ebbed away as his body relaxed, and he was soon moaning softly as Jack continued his ministrations. He shifted his hips, gaining some friction for his erection trapped between his stomach and the bed. Jack's fingers moved deeper and brushed his prostrate, causing Ianto to gasp involuntarily as an intense shudder of pleasure shot up his spine. "Oh, God," he mumbled, his hands clenching tightly at the sheets.

Then Jack's crown pressed at his stretched entrance, and there was a fiery burn as Jack slowly eased into him. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, not wanting Jack to stop. After a few more moments he realised Jack was all the way inside him. He felt impossibly full and stretched, but as the burning sensation eased, it began to feel incredible.

"Okay?" Jack murmured, pressing his chest down against Ianto's back as he placed soft kisses along Ianto's shoulders and neck.

Ianto tilted his head to meet Jack's lips in an awkward kiss. "I'm good. Just, uh... just don't stop."

Jack smiled against his lips before pulling away, easing out of him, and then sliding slowly back in again. He continued with slow, deep thrusts as Ianto whimpered with pleasure, moaning intermittently as Jack seemed to hit just the right spot each time.

"Turn around, Ianto. I want to see your face," Jack whispered, pulling out of him.

Ianto quickly flipped himself over, feeling the sudden loss acutely and wanting Jack inside him again. Jack pulled his legs up, and Ianto wrapped them around Jack's waist as Jack eased back inside him. Gradually increasing his pace, Jack stroked his hands over Ianto's erect shaft and across his chest before leaning in, staring down at him with desire burning in his eyes. Ianto grasped Jack's shoulders, pulling him down into another frenzied kiss. Jack's mouth swallowed his breathless groans as Jack continued to thrust into him. With his eyes clenched shut, Ianto was lost in the sensation of Jack both inside and around him.

Jack's mouth moved away, and his hand wrapped around Ianto's erection, stroking him in counterpoint to his thrusts. It was almost too much sensation at once, and Ianto felt his mind slipping as his consciousness wavered. Jack murmured his name and Ianto snapped his eyes open, gazing up at the other man. Jack looked magnificent, his skin flushed and shimmering with sweat, eyes glazed, lips wet and kiss-swollen, and his expression euphoric.

Jack twisted his hand, tugging almost brutally, and Ianto couldn't hold on any longer. Crying out as his body convulsed, his release spurted out over his torso in thick, pearly streams. With one more deep thrust, Jack buried himself inside Ianto, letting out a breathless, guttural groan, and Ianto felt Jack pulse repeatedly, filling him with liquid heat. The spasms of Jack's climax rippled through Ianto's body, heightening the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

The entire experience was more intense and erotic than he'd ever imagined. And just like everything else he'd done so far with Jack, he absolutely loved it.

Jack pulled out and fell onto the bed beside him, smiling as he pulled Ianto into his arms. Ianto could feel Jack trembling against him, and finding each other's lips, they shared languid kisses as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Are you okay?" Jack murmured.

Ianto nodded, feeling warm, happy, and content in his post-coital haze. So much so, he didn't even care about the messy state of their bodies. "Do you really need to ask?" He smiled softly. "That was incredible, Jack."

"For me too," Jack whispered against his neck.

Ianto sighed wearily. "I don't want to move, but we should get cleaned up."

"Stay put. I'll take care of that," Jack said, disentangling himself and getting up slowly.

Ianto was surprised when Jack returned with a warm, damp flannel from the bathroom, and proceeded to gently clean first Ianto and then himself. He'd never expected Jack to be quite so thoughtful and attentive.

"Thanks," Ianto murmured when Jack had finished and was lying beside him again.

Jack chuckled in his ear. "Did I wear you out?"

Ianto smiled at him, tugging the bed covers over them as his bare skin began to feel cool. "Maybe just a bit."

Jack shifted closer, kissing Ianto's lips as he traced his fingers lightly along the curve of Ianto's jaw. "My turn next time?"

Ianto pressed himself up against Jack, and Jack's arms wrapped securely around him. "Yep," he answered softly.

They stayed that way for a long time, exchanging the occasional kiss but mostly just holding onto each other. Ianto was starting to drift off when he heard Jack sigh and felt him begin to pull away. "I should get back to the Hub."

Ianto nodded and helped Jack retrieve his clothes, then pulled his own jeans and shirt on again. He followed Jack to the door and helped him into his greatcoat.

"Thanks for a fantastic evening, Ianto. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you in the morning, Jack," Ianto agreed.

Jack kissed him briefly before opening the door and striding away.

After watching Jack's retreating form for a few moments, Ianto sighed and closed the door, turning his attention to finishing off tidying the kitchen. This time he couldn't help feeling more disappointed that Jack hadn't stayed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again for all the reviews and encouragement. Special thanks as always to Prothrombintime for feedback and suggestions. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**September 22nd, 2004**_

Ianto carried their morning coffees into Jack's office, putting Jack's usual blue and white stripped mug down on the opposite side of the desk before settling into his chair and breathing in the comforting, pungent aroma from his own mug. Jack gave him a small, distracted smile as he picked up his coffee and sipped at it.

"You okay, Jack?" Ianto asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jack's eyes focused on Ianto and softened, his mind apparently returning from wherever it had drifted. "Just a little preoccupied."

Ianto nodded. "It's today, isn't it? The day every year when you defrost our frozen soldier." He shrugged when Jack looked at him in surprise. "I saw the initials 'TRB' on your calendar. Thomas Reginald Brockless. Tommy. I've read his file."

Jack looked amused as he took another sip of coffee. "You really do know everything, don't you?"

Ianto smiled. "I like to know things. Comes in handy around here."

"Can't argue with that," Jack said, with an obviously forced attempt at a half-hearted chuckle. He sighed heavily. "Tommy was born in 1894. He's been here for eighty-six years. Longer than anyone."

"Except you," Ianto murmured, thinking back to a conversation they'd shared several months ago.

Jack had told him one evening about the brutal way he'd been recruited into Torchwood over a century earlier. Jack had been tortured, experimented on, treated as a freak of nature, and ultimately coerced into working for Torchwood, given the most dangerous assignments because of his unique condition. Ianto shuddered inwardly as he recalled Jack's detached, factual account. He'd since read the files of the leaders of Torchwood Cardiff at the time, noting that Alice Guppy and Emily Holroyd had both demonstrated a penchant for sadistic behaviour. They'd also apparently shared the same ruthless patriotism as Yvonne Hartman.

"Except me," Jack agreed. "Torchwood's used alien cryogenics since Victorian times. They froze Tommy in 1918. He was twenty-four years old."

Ianto took a sip of his coffee. "Twenty-four, or a hundred and ten. Depending on how you work it out."

"I know which one I'd choose." Jack rubbed his hand over his face, suddenly looking deeply weary. "Another life destroyed by Torchwood. But one day we're gonna need him."

Ianto was again reminded how much Jack had seen and suffered over the course of his long life. Jack had also told him about the events of the turn of the century when Alex Hopkins had murdered the entire Torchwood Cardiff team. Ianto had seen the tears in Jack's eyes as he'd told the morbid tale, and it was clear how deeply every loss affected the older man.

The report from 1918 explained that a time-shift had occurred at St. Teilo's Military Hospital. A fracture in the Rift had caused two slices of time to erupt into each other, a slice of 1918, and a slice from some point in the future. The problem was they didn't know when – it hadn't happened yet, but it could be tomorrow, or it could be in a hundred years time, maybe even a thousand years. And Tommy was somehow needed to stop it. He'd been preserved in time to save the future.

"What will happen?" he asked thoughtfully. "When we catch up with the other side of the fracture?"

"Chunks of 1918 will start to appear at the hospital," Jack replied. "A few at first, then more and more. When the time-shift is complete, it will start a chain reaction. Unless we stop it, time-shifts will start happening all over the country, then all over the world."

Ianto nodded. He gestured towards a rusty, rectangular metal box on Jack's desk. "And that's the sealed instructions from Torchwood in 1918? When the time comes, they'll tell us what Tommy has to do?"

Jack picked up the box, studying it for a moment before putting it down again. "Yes. It's secured by a temporal lock... tied to the Rift frequencies at the hospital. When the Rift nears completion the box will open and we'll find out exactly what part Tommy is meant to play."

Ianto frowned. "Why would they keep us in the dark, Jack?"

"I guess one day we'll find that out, too."

###

Ianto stood opposite Jack in the Hub's sunken, tiled medical bay and watched anxiously as Jack initiated the thawing process of Tommy's cryogenically preserved body. He'd helped Jack retrieve Tommy's cryo-freeze casket from the large bank of storage drawers in the Hub's morgue. The containment unit beeped and a blinking light on the control panel turned from mauve to green. Jack pressed a button, and with a heavy click accompanied by an ominous hiss, the top of the casket lifted slightly. Pushing it fully open, Jack carefully picked up Tommy's pale, seemingly lifeless body and placed him on the steel autopsy table.

Tommy was handsome, with black, neatly styled, straight hair, and youthful, almost boyish features, his face somewhat rounded in shape. His build was more solid than Ianto's and from the particulars in his file, Ianto knew the young soldier was just under six feet tall.

Jack attached electrodes to Tommy's bare chest, then injected a bright blue compound into his upper arm. "Come on, Tommy," he muttered, glancing at the monitor on the cart next to them, which continued to show a flat line. "Ianto, we need the defibrillator," he said a few moments later when nothing had happened.

Ianto hurried over to a cart on the other side of the room and quickly wheeled it to Jack's side, turning the unit on and passing the paddles to Jack. He continued to watch as Jack worked to resuscitate Tommy, shocking him twice, having increased the charge with the second attempt. Jack was remarkably calm and efficient, and while Ianto knew the Captain didn't have any formal medical training, he'd obviously learned a lot over the years. However, he couldn't help thinking that they needed a proper medical doctor on staff. It wasn't the time to raise that contentious issue again though. Besides, he knew what Jack's response would be all too well.

Finally, the ominous tone of the heart-rate monitor changed to a steady beeping sound and Tommy gasped, his eyes springing open as he began to writhe violently on the table. Jack put his hands on Tommy's shoulders, holding him in place. "It's okay, Tommy. It's all right."

Tommy continued to flail wildly, his eyes wide and glazed. His left arm swung upwards, his fist catching Jack hard across the jaw. "Get off me, leave me alone!"

"Tommy!" Jack shouted, stumbling backwards from the impact as Ianto moved forward to help him.

"Leave me alone!" Tommy yelled again, looking confused and distraught.

"Tommy, listen to me." Rubbing his jaw, Jack moved forward and grasped Tommy's arms. "It's me, Jack. Remember?"

Tommy went still, looking up at Jack with fearful eyes. After a moment he slowly nodded, his features settling into a more relaxed expression. Jack glanced at Ianto. "It's like this sometimes. Reviving from cryo-freeze can be traumatic."

"Good left hook, though," Ianto murmured appreciatively, smirking slightly and earning a dark glare from Jack.

"Tommy, do you know where you are?" Jack asked gently.

Tommy pushed himself upright, breathing heavily as he looked around. "Torchwood."

Jack smiled reassuringly. "That's right."

"Is it time again?" Tommy asking, taking a deep breath. "Blimey." Tommy's eyes settled curiously on Ianto. "Who are you?"

Jack reached over and placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder, guiding him closer. "Tommy, this is Ianto. Ianto Jones. He started working here just after I woke you up last time. He keeps everything running smoothly around here." Jack turned his head and winked at Ianto. "Not only that, he makes fantastic coffee, and he does it all while looking good in a suit."

Ianto rolled his eyes at Jack, and gave Tommy a friendly smile. "Hello. How are you feeling?"

Tommy coughed and then swallowed, taking several more deep breaths. "I could murder a cup of tea."

###

After Jack gave Tommy a few basic tests to check his cognitive and motor functions weren't impaired, Tommy declared he was starving, and Jack went out to procure breakfast for the three of them. Meanwhile, Ianto busied himself with making coffee and tea, while Tommy showered and got himself organised. Jack had produced clothes for him, including a white shirt, tan sleeveless sweater, and a grey pinstripe suit. Ianto had left Tommy alone, assuming he was used to the routine that while once a year for them, was for him, a daily occurrence.

"Don't expect the best china," Ianto quipped as he passed around their drinks and sat in the chair to Jack's left. "Visitors only."

He frowned as he noticed a large smeary patch on the glass of the boardroom's table and made a mental note to clean it later. With only the two of them, they didn't use the meeting room on the upper level of the Hub very often.

Tommy was eagerly tearing into the bag of food as Ianto passed plates, cutlery and napkins to both men. "Here, tuck in," Tommy exclaimed, putting a bacon roll on his plate. "There's enough to feed an army."

Jack followed Tommy's lead, eating in his usual boisterous manner, chatting to Tommy as they ate, telling him about some of the events of the last twelve months. Ianto mostly just listened, observing them both, occasionally interjecting his own viewpoint, or adding something Jack had missed. It was obvious that for Jack, Tommy was not only another victim of the vagaries of the Rift, but also a fellow soldier.

"Ianto, a moment?" Jack said, standing up after he'd finished devouring his breakfast.

Ianto nodded. "Back in a minute," he said to Tommy, rising from his chair and refilling the man's cup with the remainder of the pot of tea. He smiled, then retreated from the room and joined Jack downstairs.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Jack asked.

"Of course, Jack."

"Keep Tommy company today? Just spend some time with him, maybe take him topside for a while, let him see a little of what's out there, but stay close by. I've got a case I need to follow up on. Anyway, it might be nice for him to be around someone closer to his own age. He's a sweet guy, he won't be any trouble."

Ianto nodded. "No problem."

"Sure you don't mind?"

"I don't mind. I'll introduce him to Myfanwy, she'll like having someone new to play with. Maybe the pub for lunch, and a film later. I'll ask him what he'd like to do."

Jack waved an admonishing finger at him. "No kissing or groping in the back row. That's my job."

Ianto grinned, remembering their many failed attempts at watching films in their evenings together at the apartment, or occasionally at the Hub. Sometimes they managed to get all the way through to the closing credits, but more often than not they didn't. Jack could be very distracting.

"Well, he is very good-looking," Ianto said teasingly. "I might not be able to restrain myself."

"Try," Jack suggested, narrowing his eyes.

Ianto smirked. "All right."

Jack shook his head with obvious amusement, then smiled softly and moved closer. He reached his hand up to the back of Ianto's neck, gently stroking just above the line of his shirt collar. "Thanks, Ianto."

Ianto returned Jack's smile, then moved away and climbed the stairs back to the boardroom.

###

"It's a bloody pterodactyl!"

"Yep. Well, technically she's a pterosaur. She came through the Rift six months ago. Jack and I sort of adopted her. Her name's Myfanwy."

Ianto grinned at Tommy as Myfanwy swooped down and landed on the walkway in front of them, tilting her head and looking at them curiously. Ianto broke off a piece of dark chocolate from the block he'd retrieved from his desk and tossed it towards her. Myfanwy squawked and deftly caught it in her beak. Stepping forward, Ianto reached up and stroked the top of her head affectionately.

"There's my good girl," he cooed. He turned back to look at Tommy, pleased by the other man's awestruck expression, and feeling rather like a proud dad. "She's really very sweet. Jack thinks she's in love with him, but I reckon he's deluded. Besides, I'm the one who feeds her and keeps her nest clean."

Tommy laughed. "She's brilliant, Ianto."

Ianto gestured for Tommy to come closer, passing him the chocolate. "Here, just break some off and toss it to her. We've got her pretty well trained now. She won't hurt you."

Tommy nodded and threw a piece of chocolate into the air. He let out a delighted whoop as Myfanwy caught it and launched herself into the air, spiralling upwards and then sailing around the water tower in wide, graceful arcs.

They spent a while watching and playing with Myfanwy. Ianto had been teaching her to fetch, and she obviously enjoyed the attention, screeching excitedly and flying back and forth across the expanse of the Hub.

Ianto made them a fresh round of drinks and then Tommy wanted to use one of the computers to catch up on what was happening in the world, Jack having taught him how to use the internet on one of the previous times he'd been woken up. Ianto set him up on one of the spare workstations and left him to it, spending the time catching up on his usual duties.

He kept a surreptitious eye on Tommy as he worked. He genuinely liked the young soldier, feeling deeply sympathetic for the man's plight. It was impossible to imagine what it was like for Tommy, with decades passing him by in what was from his perspective, only a matter of days. Remembering the pained look in Jack's eyes earlier that morning, he silently cursed the Rift for taking away Tommy's freedom. He didn't know what fate had in store for Tommy, but knowing Torchwood as well as he did, he doubted it would end well. There always seemed to be a price to be paid, and he had a bad feeling that in Tommy's case, it was going to be a steep one.

By midday, Tommy was roaming the Hub and looking restless, so Ianto collected his things and ushered Tommy over to the invisible lift. He smiled as he activated the lift with his Torchwood-issue PDA, causing Tommy to shout in surprise and grab onto his arm for support. Tommy stared around incredulously as they rose up through the Hub. It reminded Ianto of the first time Jack had shown him the lift, and he fondly remembered his own sense of awe and wonderment. He knew he was showing off a bit, but he didn't care. He just wanted Tommy to have a good time. It seemed like the least he could do.

###

After a stroll around the bay area, with Tommy excitedly pointing out things and asking what seemed like an endless list of questions, they went to the local pub for lunch. Ianto sipped on his beer as he watched Tommy enthusiastically attack his plate of fish, chips, and mushy peas. He'd settled on Shepherd's Pie for himself, but after their substantial breakfast he wasn't especially hungry.

Tommy paused eating and looked at Ianto with a curious expression. "So, er, Ianto... are you Jack's boyfriend?"

Ianto almost choked on his beer, cringing at Tommy's particular choice of words. "No. Why... uh, why would you think that?"

Tommy shrugged. "The way you look at each other. The way he touched you a couple of times. It seemed like you're together."

Ianto sighed, rubbing distractedly at the back of his head. He hadn't realised it was that obvious, but then it was always just him and Jack at the Hub. While they kept their work and personal lives separate, Jack would sometimes casually touch him in some small way, like he'd done earlier that morning. It was simply Jack's tactile way of expressing himself and Ianto didn't think anything of it. He didn't mind as long as it didn't go further during work hours.

He still wasn't sure what this thing was with Jack. They spent a lot of their spare time together, when Torchwood allowed, which sometimes wasn't that often. They shared meals, talked, watched DVD's, occasionally cooked for one another, and enjoyed a ridiculous amount of utterly fantastic, mind-blowing sex. Jack was fun to be with, he was good company, and he'd proven himself to be a surprisingly good cook, albeit an extremely messy and haphazard one.

However, Jack never stayed over at the apartment, and on the few occasions when Ianto had slept in Jack's small bed at the Hub, it had always been on his own. They'd have sex, then Jack would get dressed again, and he'd go up to his office to work, or disappear off into the night. For the most part, Jack was attentive and affectionate, and Ianto knew he didn't have any cause for complaint. Jack had been clear from the beginning about their 'no strings attached' arrangement. But after six months of being involved, he wasn't sure if what they were doing could still be classified as strictly casual.

"We spend time together," he said tentatively. "We're, um... well, I'm not sure what it is. But we're not together, at least, not the way you mean."

Tommy looked confused. "You don't love him then?"

Ianto felt his mouth drop open. "No... no, we're not like that," he spluttered hurriedly. "We're friends and I care about him, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head, not knowing what else to say.

There was no denying he cared deeply for Jack. Jack had become his closest friend, and Ianto loved the time they spent together. When he was with Jack, he felt alive, appreciated, and uninhibited in a way he'd never truly experienced before. But he'd loved Lisa, and what he felt for Jack was different, at least he thought it was. However, to have it stated so plainly, and by someone he'd met only hours earlier, was disconcerting to say the least. Did he love Jack? Was he falling in love with Jack? He was shocked to realise he didn't know the answers to those questions. The fact that his mind didn't respond with an immediate and resounding denial seemed rather telling.

"The way you look when you talk about him. I've seen that look before." Tommy smiled a little wistfully. "Jack's a handsome bloke. You both are. You're lucky you know, Ianto. To have someone like that."

Ianto couldn't disagree. He was lucky to have Jack in his life, even it wasn't in any sort of conventional, definable way. "You're not shocked that we're... that I'm involved with another man?"

Tommy shook his head. "I envy you. Where I come from, it was too dangerous. I couldn't... I had to be careful. I had to try to fight it. I had a girlfriend for a while, but it wasn't what I wanted. And the war changed me. I decided to stop seeing her and we broke it off."

"Oh," Ianto said, surprised by Tommy's admission. "So, er... have you ever... been with another man?"

Tommy swallowed a mouthful of beer and lowered his eyes. "I kissed a bloke once," he said quietly. "Messed around a bit. But I was terrified of being caught. We both were."

Ianto thought about his own battle with his attraction to Jack, but he'd never had to worry about being imprisoned for acting on his feelings. "I can't imagine what it was like back then. To live in fear like that."

"At least I've got to see the world how it is now... see that things have changed for people like us. I know it gets better."

"I wonder what the world will look like in another eighty years," Ianto said thoughtfully. "You might get to find out."

"Yeah. Maybe I will. I think I'd like that." Tommy frowned, apparently catching the pained look on Ianto's features. "What's wrong, Ianto?"

Ianto sighed, shaking his head regretfully. "I just wish we could do more for you."

Tommy shrugged. "Jack says I'm going to save the world one day. There are worse things a fellow can do. I thought I'd die for my country back in 1918. I wasn't expecting to make it to my twenty-fifth birthday. So, whatever happens... I'll be doing my duty."

Ianto nodded sadly. He reached over and touched Tommy's arm, patting it gently in a feeble attempt at reassurance, feeling more than a little wretched.

They finished their meals in relative silence, Tommy commenting occasionally on various random topics. He downed the rest of his beer and gestured towards the vacant pool table at the back of the pub. "Fancy a game?"

Ianto forced a smile to his face. "Sure."

After a few games of pool, Ianto having been thoroughly thrashed by Tommy, Ianto's phone rang. "It's Jack," he said, glancing at the caller ID. "Back in a minute."

Ianto stepped outside and spoke for a couple of minutes to Jack, who was checking everything was okay. Returning inside, Ianto was surprised to find Tommy talking to a good-looking man in his mid-twenties with brown, wavy hair, and dressed in jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

Pausing uncertainly, Ianto retreated to the far end of the bar, not wanting to intrude, but keeping both men in sight. They talked for a few more minutes, Tommy shook his head in response to something the man said, the man scribbled on the back of a coaster and handed it to Tommy, then he walked out.

"Who was that?" Ianto asked curiously after Tommy had walked over to join him.

"He said his name's Aiden... um, Aiden Harris. He just came over and started talking to me. Asked if I wanted to have a drink with him tonight, maybe get some dinner." Tommy frowned, looking dejectedly down at the coaster in his hand with a phone number scrawled on it, then sliding it into his jacket pocket. "I told him I couldn't. He seemed nice. Never had a bloke ask me out before."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Ianto said with regret, wondering if he should talk to Jack about giving Tommy some time before freezing him again, even if it was only a few days. He suspected Jack would never agree.

They left the pub and walked around a bit more, neither of them speaking much. Tommy asked Ianto where he lived and they ended up at Ianto's apartment, with Tommy settled on the sofa as he avidly watched the original Star Wars on DVD.

Ianto pottered around and sat with him for a while. It was nearly six o'clock when he was in the kitchen preparing a pot of tea. He was just about to check in with Jack and ask what time they needed to be back at the Hub, when his phone rang. He raised it to his ear.

"Jack, I was just about to call you..."

"_Ianto, I need you and Tommy back at the Hub right away."_

Ianto frowned. "What's wrong?"

"_The box just opened. It's happening, Ianto... it's happening now. The box contains instructions for Tommy... and for you."_


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Notes:** Early post this week with perhaps another one later in the week. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for greatly appreciated encouragement, support and invaluable feedback.

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**Chapter Eighteen**

_**September 22nd, 2004 (continued)**_

The three of them sat in Jack's office as he explained that demolition of St. Teilo's Hospital had begun and was the trigger for the time-shift. Surges of Rift activity at the hospital were causing intermittent fragments of 1918 to manifest in the present. He'd gone there to take some readings, and he'd calculated that it would be a little over twelve hours before the fracture in time was fully formed. He'd also set up several Rift activity sensors at the hospital, so they could remotely monitor the situation as it progressed.

"There'll be a brief moment when both times exist before the shift completes," Jack continued to explain. "When Tommy can be here now, and in 1918. He needs to be in the hospital, ready to step from one time to the other."

"So he'll be right inside the time-shift?" Ianto asked, glancing worriedly at Tommy.

Jack nodded. "And he can close the fracture that caused it."

Tommy frowned. "And when the fracture's closed?"

"1918 will be back where it belongs," Jack replied.

"So will I," Tommy murmured in a resigned tone, and Jack nodded again. "For good?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah. You're the only one who can do this. Torchwood brought you from 1918 to now, and when you go back to 1918, your life will be like a thread, stitching time back together again."

"A stitch in time," Tommy said with a hint of a wry smile.

Ianto frowned at Jack in confusion. "How?"

Jack picked up a strange looking circular device from his desk; it appeared to be made of brass, with a series of interlocking cogs and a key on one side, like a massively over-sized watch mechanism. "This is a Rift manipulator. It's basically a key." He looked at Tommy. "Once you're inside the time-shift, you can use this to close the door behind you."

"And that's it?" Tommy asked pensively. "I'm gone?"

Ianto looked at Jack closely, and there was something in his expression that filled him with apprehension. There was something Jack wasn't telling them.

"Yes," Jack said simply.

Standing up slowly, Jack moved around from behind his desk and rested his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Will you give us a minute, Tommy? I need to talk to Ianto."

Tommy nodded and stood up. Ianto gave him a reassuring smile and watched the young soldier as he made his way out of the office and over to the Hub's sofa.

Ianto looked up at Jack anxiously. "What happens to him, Jack?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Jack rested back against the desk and sighed heavily. "Three weeks after we send Tommy back, he dies."

"How does he die?" Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he needed to know.

Jack closed his eyes, opening them again a moment later. "He's shot by a firing squad."

Ianto looked at Jack in horror. "No. I don't understand. Why?"

Jack shook his head sadly. "Tommy was suffering from shell-shock. That's why he was in the hospital. When Torchwood took him and froze him, they froze his most recent memories. When he returns, he'll revert back to who he was. He'll be shell-shocked and he'll be executed for cowardice."

"Then we can't send him back," Ianto said firmly.

Jack sighed again. "Ianto, we have to."

"To send him to his death?"

"To help him save the future." Jack reached across the desk and picked up one of the sheets of paper from the box, passing it to Ianto with a pained expression. "Ianto, I'm sorry. It has to be you."

Ianto gasped as he looked down at the sheet of yellowed paper. On it was a sketch of a tall young man in a suit. The drawing was somewhat crude, but the likeness was unmistakeable. It was him. He was the one who sent Tommy back to his death. Ianto shook his head in disbelief.

"Torchwood 1918 saw you with Tommy in the hospital. You were telling him what to do," Jack said quietly. "You have to do this. There's no other way."

Ianto continued to stare down incredulously at the image of himself, feeling a cold sense of foreboding. "Does Tommy know what happens to him?"

"No. And we can't tell him. It's too much of a risk."

Ianto wanted to argue but he knew Jack was right. Nobody should know their own fate, and if Tommy knew what was going to happen to him, he might do something that could have untold consequences on the time-line. He gazed over to where Tommy was sitting on the sofa, looking despondent. Finally, he turned back to Jack and slowly nodded.

"Tommy met someone at the pub today," he said after a moment. "Tommy said he seemed like a decent bloke. Good-looking. He asked Tommy to go out with him tonight." He paused, looking at Jack curiously. "Did you know he likes men?"

"I suspected. But we've never talked about it." Jack glanced over at Tommy and looked thoughtful. "It wasn't easy back then for men like Tommy. I know what it was like... I had my fair share of close calls. I had to learn to be discreet pretty quickly. We should let him go on his date tonight if he wants to. It might be his only chance."

Ianto raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You wouldn't mind?"

Jack shook his head. "It's the least we can do. Keep an eye on him though, will you? Organise for this guy to meet Tommy somewhere close by. And book Tommy a room at the St. David's for the night." He stood up and reached for his coat. "I want to go back to the hospital and check around again."

###

After Tommy had called Aiden and organised to meet him at the pub at seven-thirty, Ianto gave Tommy one of their spare mobile phones, and raided Jack's stash of supplies from his bunker, just in case. With some time to spare, he took Tommy over to the St. David's, booked him a room and showed him where it was, then walked with him to the pub.

"Sure you want to do this?" Ianto asked a final time before Tommy went inside.

Tommy nodded, a glimmer of anticipation in his brown eyes. "Never thought I'd be going out in public with a bloke."

"Just, ah... don't let him talk you into doing anything you don't want to do, all right? But if you want to... well... that's good." Ianto paused awkwardly. "Call me or Jack if you need anything. Otherwise, we'll pick you up at the hotel at six-thirty in the morning."

Tommy smiled softly. "Okay. Thanks, Ianto."

Ianto glanced inside the pub where he could see Aiden sitting at the bar. He gave Tommy an encouraging smile. "Right. Have fun, then."

Ianto kept a surreptitious eye on Tommy and Aiden over the course of the next couple of hours, feeling ill-at-ease with the situation, but knowing he had a job to do and that it was his responsibility to ensure Tommy remained safe. After a couple of drinks at the pub, the two men went to one of the Italian restaurants on Mermaid Quay, and from what Ianto could determine, they seemed to be getting along well. He bought himself some noddles from the nearby Chinese take-away and ate them outside, keeping his distance from the restaurant but staying close enough so he could see when they left.

He spent most of the time reflecting on his strange, undefined relationship with Jack. He wondered if they'd ever have the chance to go out together on a real date. It wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd want, but seeing Tommy and Aiden together, he couldn't help thinking it might be nice. A proper date with Jack would be something tangible; it would mean he was more to Jack than a convenient bed partner.

He watched as the two men exited the restaurant, chatting animatedly. He was a little surprised when they ducked into the lane beside the restaurant and began kissing enthusiastically. He quickly averted his eyes, and when they moved away, he followed discretely, trailing them until they reached the St. David's and went inside. Satisfied that Tommy would be fine for the rest of the evening, and pleased that he was hopefully going to have an enjoyable night with Aiden, Ianto made his way back to the Hub.

Finding that Jack hadn't returned from St. Teilo's yet, Ianto brewed some coffee and retrieved his diary, settling on the sofa as he sipped at the hot drink. Jack returned a while later and Ianto gave him an update on Tommy. Jack reported that the situation at the hospital was escalating as predicted, with increasing levels of Rift energy, but that it was contained and stable, then retreated to his office.

After several failed attempts to organise his chaotic thoughts, Ianto closed his diary in frustration and returned it to his desk drawer. He slowly entered Jack's office, hands shoved inside his trouser pockets. He was still thinking about Tommy who was grabbing his one chance of a few hours where he could truly be himself, before returning to a world that would never accept him. Tommy's fate was sealed, and there was nothing they could do to save him.

Jack was sitting at his desk, studying the written orders from the box. "This time tomorrow, he'll be back in 1918."

"In his own time," Ianto agreed quietly, stopping a short distance from Jack's desk. "Would you go back to yours? If you could?"

Jack glanced up from the papers. "Why, would you miss me?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Yep," Ianto answered honestly, looking downwards and stepping closer to Jack. He'd always been a master of understatement. The irrefutable truth was that if Jack found a way to leave and chose to do so, he'd be devastated. He wasn't sure if he could imagine his life without Jack being a major part of it, at least he didn't want to, and that in itself was a frightening realisation.

"I left home a long time ago," Jack continued in a reflective tone, tinged with sadness. "I don't know where I really belong. Maybe that doesn't matter anymore."

Ianto closed the gap between them and leaned against the edge of Jack's desk, lowering his eyes. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Jack, being trapped in a time and on a planet that wasn't his own. "I... I know you get lonely."

"Going home wouldn't fix that." Jack glanced up at him, then stared down at his hands. "Being here, I've seen things I never dreamt I'd see. Loved people I never would have known if I'd just stayed where I was."

Ianto nodded slightly. He wondered if he might ever possibly be someone who Jack could love. Hesitantly, he lifted his gaze, making eye contact with the other man. He was startled to find Jack staring at him with a look of such unguarded vulnerability, a depth of emotion in his eyes that Ianto had never seen before. It caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"And I wouldn't change that for the world," Jack finished, his eyes still locked on Ianto's.

Feeling an intense surge of yearning and deep affection, Ianto wrapped his hand around the back of Jack's neck and captured Jack's lips with his own. Stroking his thumb over Jack's cheek with his other hand, he poured all of the passion he felt for this remarkable man into the kiss, holding nothing back. Jack grasped his shoulders, pulling him closer, then cradled Ianto's face with his hands, returning the kiss with the same degree of desperate fervour.

_I'm here for you, Jack,_ Ianto thought, losing himself as their lips continued to move sensuously against one another, his arousal intensifying as Jack's presence surrounded him. Although he suspected he could never be enough for someone like Jack, he hoped he could give Jack some small measure of comfort, a sense of having a place where he belonged, no matter how fleeting that turned out to be.

They both moaned softly as their kiss finally ended, Jack holding him close, with their foreheads resting against one another. "Stay with me tonight?" Jack asked, brushing his fingers over Ianto's cheek.

Ianto nodded and smiled gently. Standing up, Jack took his hand and guided him over to the hatch in the floor leading down to his bunker. Ianto descended the ladder, Jack following close behind.

###

_**September 23rd, 2004**_

Ianto woke the following morning, the insistent beeping he dimly recognised as Jack's wrist-strap, tugging at his consciousness. Blinking several times, he was startled to realise Jack's naked body was wrapped tightly around his own, his head resting on Ianto's shoulder, and snoring softly with his face pressed against the base of Ianto's neck. Thinking back to the night before, Ianto smiled as he remembered the several rounds of slow, passionate sex that had culminated with them falling asleep in each other's arms, sated and exhausted. He couldn't quite believe Jack had stayed with him the entire night.

Then reality came crashing down as he remembered Tommy and what they had to do. "Jack," he murmured thickly, nudging the other man. "Wake up."

"Ianto?" Jack mumbled, tightening his embrace as he lifted his head and looked down at Ianto with bleary eyes. "Hey."

Under different circumstances, Ianto would have been both amused and endeared by Jack's rather adorable sleep-rumpled state. "Jack, we need to get up. Tommy... the time-shifts."

Jack quickly came to his senses. He gave Ianto a brief kiss and then extricated himself, climbing out of the cramped bed that was barely big enough for one grown man, let alone two. He pulled Ianto up after him, and they showered and dressed. Ianto was grateful he'd decided to keep a spare set of clothes and essentials on hand at the Hub.

After calling Tommy to let him know they were on their way, they parked at the entrance of the St. David's and Ianto went inside, finding Tommy waiting for him in the foyer. He ushered the other man towards the SUV. "I'm sorry, Tommy. It's time. We need to go."

Tommy nodded. "I know."

"Did you have a good night?" Ianto asked.

"Yeah. He left just before you called. Said he'd like to see me again."

Ianto opened the side door of the SUV and looked at Tommy sadly, at a complete loss to know what to say, and belatedly wondering if letting Tommy go on the date with Aiden had been cruel. They'd given him a fleeting taste of present day life and then were ruthlessly tearing it away from him. Tommy just gave him a sad, resigned smile, then climbed into the back seat.

Ianto got into the front passenger seat as Jack nodded at Tommy, giving him a grim smile, then began the drive to the hospital. Ianto turned back to look at Tommy, gesturing at the large cardboard box on the empty seat next to him. "We kept those in the archives. You were wearing them in the hospital when Torchwood took you."

Tommy opened the box and extracted a green army jacket and a pair of old-fashioned stripped pyjamas. "Good job the moths haven't got into them. So I'll be saving the world in some pyjamas? How daft is that?"

Ianto tried to produce a sympathetic smile, but quickly turned away, facing forward again.

"I've saved the world in less," Jack quipped.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Jack, I think I speak for both of us when I say we don't want to hear about how you saved the world in your birthday suit."

Tommy chuckled. "How does Ianto put up with you, Jack?"

Jack laughed as Ianto groaned dramatically, grateful to Jack for the welcome distraction. "I have no idea sometimes."

They arrived at St. Teilo's, Tommy changed into his pyjamas and jacket, then they cautiously made their way upstairs to the large white painted room that was formerly the ward Tommy was taken from in 1918. Ianto jumped backwards with a start when a nurse in a 1900's era uniform appeared in front of them, carrying an oil lamp and walking out into the corridor.

"Where is she?" Tommy asked, following after her. "In 1918?"

'Tommy!" Ianto called, going after him, Jack at his side.

The nurse vanished and they reached another large empty room, tiled half-way up all four of the walls. Ianto assumed it had once been a shower room.

Tommy was looking around wildly, panic clearly setting in. "I won't do it. I can't go back."

"You've got to," Jack said evenly.

"No! I know what'll happen. They'll send me back into battle, I'll be back in the trenches. Help me!"

Ianto stepped closer to the distraught man. "You've got to go, Tommy."

"Why me?" Tommy dropped the Rift key to the floor and Ianto glanced worriedly at Jack. "You're no better than the generals," Tommy shouted angrily. "Sitting safely behind the lines, sending us over the top. Either one of you could go, but you're not are you? You're sending me."

Jack shook his head. "We belong here."

"I've been shoved from pillar to post all my life. By the Army, by Torchwood." Tommy retreated to the furthest wall and slumped to the floor, curling his knees up against his chest.

"Tommy..." Jack began, moving towards him.

Ianto moved between them and looked imploringly at Jack. "Jack, leave him. Please."

Jack looked like he was about to argue, but then he nodded and patted Ianto's shoulder. "There's not much time left."

Ianto nodded in understanding and watched as Jack left the room. He picked up the Rift key and sat down next to Tommy.

"Tommy, listen. You're a hero. Do you know that? Because you stop the time-shift and save everyone. You save all of us."

Tommy shook his head violently. "I can't do it."

"We need you," Ianto insisted. "Everything you've seen, it will all be gone if you don't do this. Jack, me, Aiden, Myfanwy... we'll all be destroyed."

Tommy looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I don't want to be a hero. I want to stay here. With you and Jack. I want to see Aiden again. I want to have a life here, like you."

Suddenly there was a bright flash of golden light, accompanied by a rumbling, howling sound. Ianto instinctively pulled Tommy close against him, shielding him as he peered across the room, where two people had materialised. He immediately recognised them from photographs he'd seen of past Torchwood operatives in the archives. There was an older man with light-brown hair, Gerald Carter, and a blonde, younger woman, Harriet Derbyshire. They'd both worked for Torchwood in 1918.

"Hello?" Gerald called to them.

"Tell them," Ianto said to Tommy.

"Tell us what?" Gerald asked.

"Tell them what to do," Ianto repeated, trying to remain calm. "Tommy, you're the only one who can stop this. If you don't, it's the end of everything." He handed Tommy the Rift key and squeezed his hand. "Tommy, please."

Tommy seemed to gather his resolve and rose to his feet, Ianto doing the same. He held back as Tommy stepped towards Gerald and Harriet. "Take me. I'm in there in the ward in 1918. You have to take me so I can be here now." He pointed towards the ward. "Just take me!" he shouted desperately.

Just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the bright light and howling sound stopped, and Gerald and Harriet were gone again.

"I'll be gone soon," Tommy said, turning and looking back towards Ianto with an anguished expression.

Ianto stepped forward and grasped Tommy's shoulders. "Remember... the Rift key. You have to use it." He tried to give Tommy an encouraging smile. "You're a fine man, Tommy. It's been an honour." Glancing around nervously, Ianto ushered him back into the corridor and towards the ward. "You've got to get back into bed. Like you've never been away. Then use the key, okay?"

Tommy nodded, and Ianto pulled him into a firm embrace, holding him close for a moment before gently easing back and nudging him forward. They held each other's gaze before Tommy turned and walked away, Ianto watching him regretfully. Then in another flash of bright light the young soldier vanished.

Ianto forced himself to turn away and sprinted towards the stairs where Jack was waiting. "Jack! Go!"

Pausing, he glanced back to where Tommy had been only moments earlier, but Jack grabbed his arm, pulling on it insistently. "Come on!"

They raced down the stairs, exited the hospital, and climbed into the SUV. All Ianto could do was stare numbly out the window as Jack drove them back to the Hub, Tommy's expression of fear and despair filling his thoughts. He was overwhelmed with self-loathing for what he'd had to do. He felt like a monster.

The moment they entered the Hub, the blaring sound of the Rift alarms assaulted their ears. Myfanwy was flying around the upper reaches of the cavernous space, screeching loudly in agitation, the sound of her wings flapping in the air lost in the cacophony of noise. Dashing to the nearest computer, Jack pulled up a scan of the hospital and the surrounding areas.

Ianto peered at the image which showed masses of pulsing red dots indicating flares of Rift energy. "Jack, what's happening?"

"The time-shift hasn't stopped." Jack glanced over his shoulder at him. "It's spreading out from the hospital."

"They're everywhere. The Rift key didn't work..." Ianto took a deep breath. "Or Tommy didn't use it."

Jack nodded. "He's confused... it's the shell-shock." He turned away from the screen and headed back towards the cogwheel door. "I have to go back."

"Jack, you can't!" Ianto dashed after him, grabbing his arm. "You'll get stuck in 1918."

"We don't have a choice, Ianto. If Tommy doesn't use that key, the time-shifts will keep spreading. The world will be destroyed." Jack pulled away and sprinted off down the corridor, heading back to the SUV, his coattails billowing behind him.

Ianto swore under his breath and ran after him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes:** I'm spoiling you this week with a second chapter. :-) Enjoy! Special thanks to Prothrombintime for much needed encouragement and feedback.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**September 23rd, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto barely managed to climb into the SUV before Jack gunned the engine, turned on the SUV's strobing blue lights, and took off out of the underground garage at high speed.

"How long have we got?" Ianto braced himself as Jack wrenched the steering wheel, flinging him against the passenger-side door.

"Not long," Jack muttered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "A few minutes maybe."

Ianto genuinely feared for his life during their harrowing journey back to St. Teilo's. Finally Jack stopped the SUV with a screech of tires and they both jumped out, running through the hospital's main entrance once again.

The air around them seemed to sizzle with Rift energy, causing the fine hairs on the back of Ianto's neck to stand on end. The building was trembling as people and objects from eighty-six years ago flickered into existence around them, erupting forcefully into the present.

Jack stopped abruptly and placed his palm against Ianto's chest, holding him back. He tugged off his greatcoat, handing it to Ianto, followed by his wrist-strap and Webley. "Keep these safe for me." Finally he handed Ianto his keys.

"Jack..." Ianto began, feeling his chest tighten with fear as he looked into the other man's determined eyes.

"You need to take the SUV back to the Hub." Jack looked at him steadily. "Once I'm through to 1918, I'll get Tommy to use the Rift key, then Torchwood can put me into cryo-freeze too. You saw how I revived Tommy. When you get to the Hub, just do the same to bring me back."

Ianto nodded anxiously in response. Jack grabbed his shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him hard on the lips. "Whatever happens, I'll find my way back. Now, you need to get out of here before you're pulled into 1918 as well."

Ianto nodded again, a knot of fear twisting in his stomach. He was terrified he wouldn't see Jack again. "Jack, I..." he began, but trailed off awkwardly, not certain what he wanted to say. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "Be careful."

Jack gave him a grim smile, and with a final squeeze of his shoulders, he turned and ran off down the corridor, heading for the stairs leading up to Tommy's ward. Ianto watched until Jack disappeared from view, desperately hoping he could convince Tommy to use the key, and then find his way back. There weren't many things Ianto believed in with absolute certainty, but his faith in Jack was one of them. If anyone could fix this, it was going to be Jack.

The hospital trembled ominously as fragments of 1918 continued to flicker into existence around him. Steeling himself, and resisting the almost overwhelming urge to sprint after Jack, Ianto clutched the other man's possessions tightly to his chest and ran out of the hospital.

Wrenching open the driver's side door of the SUV, he climbed in and after clumsily wrestling with the keys, he started the engine. With a worried glance back at the derelict building, he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, turned the SUV around, and sped back towards the Hub. The road beneath the SUV quivered as the disturbance in the Rift continued to expand, causing Ianto to clutch the steering wheel even tighter.

Suddenly there was a bright, searing flash of golden light in the rear-view mirror, and Ianto let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Forcing himself to remain focused on negotiating the morning traffic, he continued the journey back to the Hub, his relief that the time rupture was sealed at odds with his heart-pounding fear for Jack's safe return.

By the time he was at the cogwheel door again, he was breathing heavily, having ran from the garage as fast as his legs would move. Leaving Jack's belongings on his desk, he checked the computer and confirmed that the scan of St. Teilo's and the surrounding areas was now clear. Then he headed for the morgue.

Acting on instinct, Ianto went to the drawer immediately to the right of the one they'd retrieved Tommy from the day before. He opened it with trembling hands, sliding out the cryo-freeze containment unit within. Roughly wiping away the frost covering the thick glass window at the head of the unit, he gasped with relief when he saw Jack's still face inside, pale and lifeless, his frozen features surprisingly relaxed and peaceful.

"Thank God," he muttered, retrieving the nearby trolley and using it to move the casket into the lift that would carry it up to the medical bay. Despite knowing Jack was alive and merely in a state of suspended animation, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at the corpse of the man he cared for deeply... the man he was only just beginning to realise he was falling in love with.

After activating the lift and hearing it groan into action, Ianto hurried back up to the Hub's main level and then went down the stairs into the medical bay. Forcing aside his torrent of emotions, he retrieved the casket from the lift and initiated the thawing sequence. He waited anxiously, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable wait, the cycle completed with a reassuring beep and the indicator light turned green.

With some difficulty, Ianto heaved Jack's inanimate body from the cryo-freeze unit and managed to lay him out on the examination table. Jack was heavier than he looked and Ianto decided, somewhat hysterically, that he really needed to stop feeding Jack so many donuts, biscuits, and assorted pastries.

Retrieving the blue compound he'd seen Jack use on Tommy, he filled a syringe, and readied the defibrillator in case he needed it. Taking a deep breath, he carefully injected Jack's arm and waited anxiously.

"Come on, Jack," he murmured, stroking his fingers along the cool flesh of Jack's face. "Please come back to me."

He was just about to reach for the defibrillator when the sound of a shuddering inhalation of breath filled the room, and Jack's eyes slid open, shifting around before finally settling on him. "Ianto?" he mumbled, drawing several deep breaths as he struggled to sit upright.

"Jack." Ianto's voice was filled with relief. He reached forward, carefully helping Jack to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the table. "Easy there."

"Whoa!" Jack's legs sagged as he tried to get off the table. He gripped the table's edge as Ianto held onto his arm. Jack looked around for a moment, then his gaze settled on Ianto again. "It's good to be back."

Before Ianto realised what he was doing, he'd wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "Thought I'd lost you," he murmured against Jack's neck, his voice catching.

Jack held him close, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down Ianto's back. "Never. I'm not an easy guy to get rid of. You know that."

"Yeah." Ianto drew in a deep breath and pressed his lips against Jack's, kissing him tenderly.

Jack returned the kiss, then eased him back far enough for their eyes to meet. "You okay?" he asked in a concerned tone.

Ianto nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment from his overt display of emotion. "What happened with Tommy?"

Jack sighed heavily, a pained expression settling over his features. "He did his duty. I got him to use the key and he saved the world."

###

Ianto busied himself with making coffee, and after Jack had showered and changed into a clean set of clothes, they sat on the Hub's sofa, drinking in silence. They both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. A few minutes later, Jack put his mug down and after absently patting Ianto's knee, he abruptly stood up and collected his coat, wrist-strap and gun. With barely a backwards glance, he left the Hub, declaring he wanted to check out St. Teilo's one final time before it was demolished.

Once the relief had passed of both the world not ending and Jack being safely back in the present, Ianto felt a sense of cold, desolate despair take hold of him. Intellectually, he knew they'd done what was necessary, but that knowledge didn't make Tommy's sacrifice any easier to bear.

He took their empty mugs back to the kitchen area and washed them. Then he checked on Myfanwy and fed her some fish, murmuring to her softly as he recalled the expression of pure delight on Tommy's face when they'd been feeding her chocolate and playing games with her the day before. Pushing aside the now painful memory, he turned his attention to cleaning up around the Hub, distracting his mind with the tedium of familiar, routine tasks. After reverently packing away Tommy's clothes, his heart feeling heavy and tight in his chest, he retreated to the archives.

By the end of the work day, Jack hadn't returned and Ianto found himself wandering aimlessly around the Hub. He thought of calling or going to look for Jack, but decided he was probably off on a rooftop somewhere, and wanting some solitude. He'd return when he was ready.

Eventually he ended up in the morgue, sitting on the floor beside the empty drawer that had less than thirty-six hours earlier contained Tommy's frozen body. He pulled his knees up tightly against his chest, shivering as the cold of the stone floor penetrated his clothing, seeming to seep deep into his bones. Tears filled his eyes, threatening to fall unheeded down his face as his mind twisted with sorrow and remorse. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but he also didn't particularly care.

The dull echo of heavy footsteps grew closer and he wearily lifted his head to see Jack making his way towards him, shoulders slumped, and eyes cast downwards. He lowered himself to sit at Ianto's side and moved to put his arm around Ianto's shoulders.

"Don't," Ianto murmured, pulling away and glancing at Jack angrily before averting his eyes again.

Just for a brief moment he hated Jack and his silent stoicism. He hated everything Jack represented, even though he himself was no better. He was equally a part of it, and entirely by his own choice. The surge of antagonism was irrational and fleeting, but he needed someone to blame, and Jack was all he had. Jack was Torchwood, and for Torchwood innocent lives were treated like a cheap commodity.

He'd seen enough of the files in the archives to know almost everyone who was involved with Torchwood met a swift and untimely end. Harriet Derbyshire had died at age twenty-six, just a year after she'd been at the hospital in 1918. Jack had probably known her, he realised, and had perhaps even been there when she'd died. Tommy had only been twenty-four. And they were just two casualties in an appallingly long list.

"Ianto..." Jack sighed deeply but didn't attempt to reach for him again. "We did what we had to do. You probably don't want to hear this right now, but I'm proud of you. You helped save the world."

"I helped send an innocent man to his death," Ianto retorted bitterly.

"Yes. One life to save billions. It's not fair, and I hate it too." Jack's voice trailed off with the final few words and Ianto glanced at him, their eyes meeting properly for the first time since Jack had sat down.

There was such profound sadness in Jack's blue depths that Ianto felt the remainder of his anger slip away. Jack wasn't the enemy, and somewhere in a corner of his mind he realised that part of his ire was because he could no longer deny the depth of his feelings for the other man.

Somewhere along the course of their unconventional association, his heart had begun to get in the way, but he feared that no matter how strong his feelings for Jack became, they would never be reciprocated. He knew that Jack cared about him, but the older man had also been clear from the outset about the nature of their involvement. Jack wanted companionship, not a relationship. Ianto had wanted companionship too, and he still did, but he suspected that if he continued down this treacherous emotional path, he'd eventually want more.

"There are days when I despise this job," Jack continued quietly, his eyes shifting to gaze across the room. "Today has been one of those days. But it was necessary, we both know that. Tommy did his duty, and we did ours."

Ianto couldn't argue with the truth of Jack's words, no matter how much he wanted to. "He gave his life to save the world. Tommy was a hero." He paused, his voice catching. He'd only known Tommy for a single day, but the young soldier had been his friend. "And you know what the worst part is? No one will ever know what he did."

"We know." Jack's voice was soft but determined. "We'll remember him. We'll remember his bravery and sacrifice."

Ianto shook his head. "It's not enough."

"I know," Jack agreed, his words heavy with regret. "It never is."

Ianto nodded miserably. He looked down at his left wrist, where he'd been absently tracing his fingers over the smooth glass face of his silver watch. It had been a gift from Jack a little over a month earlier, in celebration of his twenty-second birthday. Jack had been surprisingly thoughtful, arriving on his doorstep on the evening of his birthday with both a gift and a cake. He hadn't even expected Jack to remember, but it had turned out to be one of the best birthdays he'd ever had. His previous watch had been old and losing time, a fact he'd mentioned once in passing, and Jack had remembered, presenting him with the beautiful and obviously expensive replacement.

"Tommy was only twenty-four," he murmured in little more than a whisper as he continued to stare at his watch. "Is that what's going to happen to me too? Will I not even make it to twenty-five?"

"No. That's not going to happen." Jack's tone was so vehement that Ianto couldn't help turning his head and looking at him again. "I won't let that happen, Ianto," Jack repeated firmly. "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. It's what I've been trying to do since you started working here."

Ianto sighed. As much as he was sometimes exasperated by Jack's stubborn, over-protective streak, he appreciated the sentiment and reasons behind it, even though a part of him wanted to argue that Jack was deluding himself. Although he wasn't a field operative, working for Torchwood was inherently dangerous, Torchwood Cardiff even more so. "I know," he said softly.

Jack shuffled closer and reached for Ianto again. "Come here."

This time Ianto didn't resist and before he knew it, he was wrapped in Jack's arms, clinging to him desperately and sobbing against his shoulder. He couldn't hold back the pent up emotions of the last twenty-four hours any longer. Jack held him silently, his fingers stroking gently through his hair.

"Come on," Jack murmured after a few minutes, gently easing Ianto back far enough for their eyes to meet. Ianto was shocked to see Jack's own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Let's get you home."

Ianto scrubbed roughly at his face and nodded, allowing Jack to grasp his hand and help him to his feet. "Jack... stay with me tonight?" he asked tentatively.

Jack leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to Ianto's forehead, his fingers tracing lightly over Ianto's cheek. Ianto closed his eyes, focusing on the comforting sensation that was such a welcome distraction from the maelstrom of his thoughts.

When Ianto opened his eyes again. Jack was gazing at him with compassion and vulnerability, and it was obvious that he was in need of comfort too. "Yes, Ianto. I'll stay with you."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes:** Well, this chapter has very nearly driven me insane, so I'm just hoping it's okay. Thanks as always to everyone following and supporting the story. And special thanks to the incredibly generous Prothrombintime for reassurance, suggestions and encouragement.

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**Chapter Twenty**

_**September 23rd, 2004 (continued)**_

The brief journey from the Hub to Ianto's apartment was silent but not particularly uncomfortable. They'd taken Ianto's car, Jack having insisted on driving, and Ianto not having the inclination to protest. He understood it was one of those times where Jack needed to assert himself and be the caretaker.

Ianto was lost in his thoughts as he stared out into lights and bustle of the early Cardiff evening. All around were ordinary people going about their lives, oblivious to the perilous events that had taken place earlier in the day, and completely ignorant of the sacrifice of one brave soul who had died long before most of them had even been born. Just for a moment he envied them as he tried to imagine what his life might be like if he'd never heard of Torchwood. He idly wondered where he might be living, who he'd be with, what sort of job he might have... he wondered if in that other reality he'd be happy... just going about his day-to-day life, blissfully unaware of the myriad dangers threatening his existence.

Stealing a sideways glance at Jack's shadowed profile, he noted the weariness in Jack's features, an almost palpable sense of defeat seeming to fill the confined space.

Mentally shaking himself, Ianto tried to dispel his pointless thoughts. Thinking about what might have been was an utterly futile endeavour. All of his choices had led him to Jack, and he realised that was something he could never regret. While he had no idea what fate had in store for him, he'd found a place for himself at Jack's side. There was a strange sort of peace in that knowledge, a sense of confidence that he was where he belonged, quite possibly for the first time in his life.

He'd been surprised when Jack had agreed to spend the night with him, although a part of him wondered if Jack had done so out of a sense of obligation, rather than because of a genuine desire to be with him. He tried to reassure himself that it wasn't really Jack's style – when it came to his personal life, Jack Harkness didn't seem to be a man who did anything that wasn't of his own choosing. But it was possible that out of concern for Ianto's emotional state, Jack simply hadn't wanted to refuse.

They were in a murky grey area where the lines between their personal and professional relationships were blurred. Jack had become such an important and fundamental part of his life, he wasn't sure if he could make the distinction any longer. And as thankful as he was for Jack's presence, he regretted that it was the result of a needy appeal in a moment of weakness. He supposed he just wanted Jack to stay with him of his own volition.

They soon arrived at the apartment. Closing the door behind them, Ianto kicked off his shoes, for once not caring where they landed. Jack then did the same with his boots, and Ianto helped him take off his greatcoat, hanging it by the door. Ianto removed his tie and slipped off his suit jacket, depositing them in the bedroom while Jack wandered over to the sofa. Moving into the kitchen, Ianto distractedly unfastened the top buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

"Drink?" he asked, retrieving the bottle of Scotch he always kept on hand along with two glasses, and glancing over to where Jack had sat down.

"Yeah," he heard Jack reply. "Thanks."

Ianto wearily eased himself down next to Jack, pouring a glass and passing it to the other man before generously filling his own. "To Tommy," he said reverently, clinking his glass gently against Jack's.

"To Tommy," Jack repeated with a small nod, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

Neither of them spoke for a minute or so. Finally, Jack raised his glass to his lips and tossed back the liquor in one loud gulp.

He held his empty glass out expectantly, and Ianto refilled it a little less liberally, putting the bottle down on the table before taking a sip of his own drink. He rolled the strong liquor around in his mouth for a few seconds, before allowing it to slide smoothly down his throat. While the idea of getting rat-faced drunk was incredibly appealing, he didn't think it would do either of them much good. Besides, with Jack's fifty-first century constitution, he would probably only be loosening up by the time Ianto was passed out face-down on the carpet.

"Do you want some dinner?" he asked, breaking the silence as he stared down into the dark amber contents of his glass. "I could heat up some soup, or we could order a pizza?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Jack stretched out his long legs and slumped back against the sofa. "Go ahead and get something for yourself if you want."

Ianto shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry either."

He turned to observe Jack, who looked more lost and forlorn than he could recall seeing before. Jack swiftly drank half the contents of his refill, then nursed the glass on his knee as he stared down at it. Tommy's loss had clearly affected Jack deeply, and Ianto felt a knot of guilt twist unpleasantly inside him as he recalled his earlier brusque behaviour.

Tentatively, he placed his hand on Jack's knee. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Jack frowned, raising his eyes to meet Ianto's. "What for?"

Ianto sighed. "Earlier... in the morgue. I was angry... I took it out on you."

Jack waved his empty hand vaguely in dismissal. "I understand. You were upset about Tommy. I've seen that look plenty of times before. It's how people look at me when..." His voice wavered and he lowered his gaze again. "...when they think I'm a monster."

Ianto's eyes widened in horror, his hand slipping off Jack's knee as Jack pulled away from him slightly, almost seeming to shrink into himself. He could never imagine thinking of Jack in that way. Jack might be ruthless at times, but only out of necessity, and as Ianto had proven with Tommy, he could be equally ruthless if required. The truth was, they were both complicit in knowingly sending a man to his death.

He wondered how many times Jack had been required to do something similar before, making an impossible but necessary decision and then tormenting himself in the aftermath. In Tommy's case there hadn't even been a choice... from their point of view, Tommy had already been dead. All they'd done was ensure history played out the way it was supposed to.

"No," Ianto said insistently. "Jack, no, that's not what I was thinking. You're not a monster, you're a good man." He paused and took a deep breath. "Yes, I was angry with the situation. I still am, but..." He quickly swallowed some more of his drink, wincing this time as the burn hit the back of his throat. "It wasn't just that. It was also because... it was because I realised how I felt about you... about us... and I didn't know how to deal with it. I still don't, actually."

Jack looked at him, the anguish in his features giving way to what seemed to be equal measures of fear and wariness. "Ianto..."

"When we started this," Ianto continued hurriedly, anxious to explain. "I said I wasn't asking for anything, and I'm not. It's just... I'm not sure what this is anymore. If I'm just a part-time shag–"

"Is that what you think?" Jack asked sharply, sitting up straighter and narrowing his eyes. "That this is just about sex for me?"

Ianto shook his head. "No. At least, I hoped it wasn't. But before yesterday, we'd never spent a night together... I've never woken up to find you still there. We... we have sex and it's... well, uh... obviously you know how much I enjoy it... how much I like being with you... but then you leave. Surely you can understand how that might seem?"

"That's not all we do together," Jack argued, but to Ianto's surprise, there was a look of regret in his eyes. "We do other things too... things that have nothing to do with sex. If that's all I wanted, I could get that anywhere."

"I know." Ianto scrubbed his hand across his face, ruefully wishing he hadn't opened this particular can of worms, especially with their frayed emotional states. "I suppose that's why I'm confused. If all we did together was have sex, I'd know where I stand. I don't even know if you're sleeping with other people. I don't know if I even have the right to ask."

Jack visibly tensed, a scowl marring his forehead. "Even if I wanted to be with other people, which I don't by the way... when exactly would I find the time to do that?" A hint of irritation had seeped into his voice.

Ianto shrugged. "Well, you don't seem to sleep very much."

He steeled himself as Jack looked like he was about to unleash an angry retort, but instead Jack drew in a deep breath and his features relaxed. "There's no one else, Ianto. I haven't been with anyone else since before I met you."

"Oh," Ianto replied in astonishment. He'd hoped there hadn't been anyone else since he and Jack had become involved, but there had also been the six months prior to that. It seemed improbable that Jack and his intimidating libido had remained celibate for the entire time.

Jack was looking at him intently. "What about you?"

Ianto shook his head slightly in confusion, still trying to process Jack's startling admission. "Sorry?"

"Have you been with anyone else?" Jack asked, seeming to struggle to get the words out.

"No... no, of course not. There hasn't been anyone except you since Lisa." Ianto paused awkwardly and breathed out a weary sigh. "I want to be with you, Jack... just with you."

Jack nodded, looking relieved, but the wariness in his eyes remained. "You scare the hell out of me, Ianto. You know that?"

Ianto stared at Jack uncertainly, wondering if he was expecting him to respond. "I can't imagine you being scared of anything," he murmured, knowing he was dissembling. "You're the bravest person I've ever known."

Jack shook his head, making a derisive noise. "Sure, when I'm out there dealing with whatever the Rift decides to throw at us next. That's easy. Whatever happens to me physically, I heal, and I'm as good as new." The bitterness in Jack's words was unmistakeable. Jack balled his hand into a fist and pounded it hard against the left side of his chest. "But this... this doesn't heal. And no matter what happens between us, there's only one thing I know for certain. One day I'm going to lose you, just like I've lost everyone else I've ever cared about."

"Jack..." Ianto whispered, his heart clenching with despair for Jack's suffering, and hating the thought that he might one day add to it.

"I've tried to stop things from getting too serious between us," Jack continued, becoming visibly more distressed. "Partly because I was scared, but partly because you deserve so much more than I can give you." He hastily swallowed the rest of his drink, setting the glass down forcefully on the table in front of them, then looked at Ianto earnestly. "I should let you go, Ianto... I should get you as far away from me and Torchwood as I can. But I'm a selfish bastard and I can't do it... I can't push you away. I need you too much."

Ianto felt a tremor of fear as he considered that Jack might, in a moment of impulsive martyrdom, decide to retcon him and send him away somewhere – far away from Torchwood, and from Jack, with no memories of either. The thought chilled him to the core, and if Jack decided to do that, he knew he'd be powerless to stop him.

"Jack, this is my choice, it's where I belong... where I can make a difference." Ianto looked directly into Jack's eyes, willing him to understand he'd never want Jack to take away his right to live his life as he chose, no matter how well intended but misguided the other man's motives.

Torchwood and Jack were his life now, and he couldn't lose that. He supposed he was being selfish too. If he walked away now, he could spare Jack further heartache, but that would mean abandoning Jack, and that was something he would never willingly choose to do. "You might not agree with my choices," he continued. "But I'd never want you to take that away from me. Please... promise me you wouldn't do that."

Jack looked at him doubtfully for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "I couldn't do that to you, even if I wanted to. I promise."

"Good, because I don't want to be anywhere else." Gathering his resolve, Ianto reached for Jack's hand and grasped it firmly, entwining their fingers. "Jack, listen to me... I'm happy. Admittedly, not so much at the moment after what we've just been through, but I'm happy when I'm with you. Quite possibly happier than I've ever been." He tightened his grip on Jack's hand, forcing himself to hold Jack's troubled gaze. "Tommy told me I'm lucky... that I'm lucky to have you. He was right."

The barest hint of a smile graced Jack's lips. He squeezed Ianto's hand in return and shifted closer. "You're not the only lucky one. Ianto... I don't tell you enough... I don't want you to ever doubt how grateful I am that you're here."

Ianto offered a tremulous smile in return. Jack's words had given him a measure of reassurance, but regardless of whatever lingering doubts remained, he'd made his choice. He'd allowed Jack into his heart, and that meant accepting everything being with Jack entailed.

Unable to help himself, he let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Looks like we're stuck with each other then. Even if we are both bloody hopeless."

It was a clear sign of Jack's distress that he didn't immediately respond. He just continued to look at Ianto, a myriad of emotions playing in his eyes. "Yeah, we kind of are," he eventually said with a huff of mirthless laughter. "You'd think I'd be better at this after so much time."

Ianto put his glass down on the table and pulled Jack into his arms. Jack resisted for the briefest of moments before relaxing against him, his arms clutching at Ianto almost desperately as a choked sob escaped from his throat. "I'm here, Jack," Ianto whispered against his ear. "You're not alone. We've got each other."

Ianto shifted them so they were lying on their sides along the length of the sofa, looking into each other's eyes. He teased his fingers through Jack's hair, gently massaging his scalp in the way he knew Jack liked, then kissed his lips softly. Jack murmured appreciatively in response, his eyes sliding shut as he continued to hold tightly onto Ianto.

Burying his face against Jack's shoulder, their cheeks pressed together, Ianto closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting as he savoured Jack's warm, strong presence. He wasn't sure if anything had been truly resolved between them, but Jack was here in his arms, trusting him, seeking comfort from him, and acknowledging that what they shared went beyond loneliness and physical gratification. For now at least, they were together, and that was enough. It was more than enough.

He realised Jack had fallen asleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic. Ianto held him close while dozing sporadically himself, his mind still too active to achieve full unconsciousness.

He thought about Tommy, who because of several cruel twists of fate, had never had the chance to find happiness. And he thought of Jack, who beyond all the bravery and bravado, had a kind and compassionate heart, but was terrified of finding happiness because of the anguish that inevitably followed. Jack was cursed with an overflowing abundance of life, but in a tragic twist of irony, he was afraid to actually live.

Lastly, Ianto thought about himself and his own past heartache, and wondered if he and Jack could find even fleeting happiness together when the shadow of his demise hung over them. With a sense of stubborn determination, he decided they were damned well going to try.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Notes:** My apologies for the slow update. I'm struggling with this middle part of the story, so updates might be patchy for a while as I endeavour to battle along with it.

My sincerest thanks to Prothrombintime for greatly needed encouragement and reassurance. If you haven't checked out the beginning of Prothrombintime's brilliant new story "A Cloud Across the Moon", I highly recommend reading it, and please take the time to leave an encouraging review.**  
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**Chapter Twenty-One**

_**September 24th, 2004**_

When Ianto woke the following morning, he was immediately aware of being pressed up against the solid warmth of Jack's body. Jack's right arm was wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close, while his own was slung somewhat possessively across Jack's stomach.

Slowly blinking his unfocused eyes in the dull, diffuse light, he stretched out his legs within the soft cocoon of the bed coverings, tangling them with the older man's. Other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest accompanied by the rhythmic sound of relaxed breathing, Jack was still and silent, his eyes closed and his other arm resting above his head.

Ianto nuzzled his face into the soft skin at the base of Jack's neck, drawing in a deep breath and savouring the familiar, otherworldly scent. Jack responded with an almost imperceptible tightening of their embrace. Jack's pheromones were a little less intense than usual – more comforting than arousing – the subtle change most likely a result of his slumberous state. Determined to enjoy the still-new experience of waking up with the other man, this time without an end-of-the-world threat demanding their attention, Ianto exhaled a soft sigh and closed his eyes again. His alarm hadn't sounded yet, nor had Jack's wrist-strap, giving him hope they still had some time to themselves before reality intruded and forced them to face the new day.

It had been a mostly restless night, and he'd drifted in and out of consciousness as his thoughts had continued to be consumed by the turmoil of the previous day. He'd been unable to fully relax, and he hadn't allowed himself to believe that Jack would actually stay the entire night. Yet each time he'd woken, Jack had been lying there beside him, holding him comfortingly.

After eventually extricating themselves from the sofa, Ianto had prepared two mugs of hot chocolate and they'd silently consumed the drinks while standing at the apartment's large windows, both staring out over the night-time skyline. Then they'd retreated to the bathroom, taking turns with the toilet before Ianto had hesitantly proffered his spare toothbrush to Jack. In actual fact, he'd specifically purchased the toothbrush three months earlier while picking up a new one for himself, thinking it would be convenient if Jack ever stayed over.

The toothbrush had since been pushed to the back of the small bathroom cupboard, nestled amongst the neatly organised grooming products and bathroom supplies, and he hadn't really thought any further about it. But as he'd handed it to Jack, he'd seen the momentarily flicker of panic laced with fear in the other man's expression. For one brief, tense moment, he'd thought Jack was going to bolt from the apartment. To his relief, Jack had quickly recovered his composure, offered up a wide smile, then proceeded to furiously and messily clean his teeth.

The innocuous length of blue plastic now stood in the holder in the bathroom, joining his own reddish-purple toothbrush – irrefutably proclaiming that their strange, unconventional relationship had forever moved beyond the realms of casual and convenient.

They'd undressed each other, sharing frequent undemanding kisses in the process, the act intimate and reverential, but for the first time entirely non-sexual. Ianto had hung their trousers along with Jack's shirt in the wardrobe, leaving the rest of their clothes in a discarded pile to be dealt with in the morning. Then they'd climbed into bed, settling into a comfortable tangle of limbs.

He'd half-expected Jack to want sex, and he wouldn't have refused, possibly even welcoming the distraction. But he'd felt a sense of relief when Jack hadn't done anything more than give him a brief but tender, almost chaste kiss. Jack had simply wrapped him in a firm embrace and closed his eyes. It had been a little unnerving to see Jack so subdued and restrained, but it was oddly reassuring to know they could be in bed together and intimately close without it being a precursor to anything further.

Jack's hand caressed Ianto's shoulder and warm lips brushed lightly against his temple. "Ianto? You awake?" he murmured.

"Mmm... working on it," Ianto mumbled drowsily, his voice thickened from sleep. He pressed himself closer to Jack, making no further attempt to rouse himself. Jack chuckled gently against his ear, and he felt Jack's other hand link with his own, where it was still resting on Jack's stomach.

It was a few minutes later when Ianto's mind registered that the bedroom should have been darker for such an early hour of the morning. "What time is it, Jack?" he asked, reluctantly lifting himself up far enough to peer down at the other man.

Jack opened his eyes and looked up at him. He was fully awake, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A little after nine."

Frowning, Ianto twisted his head to glance over his shoulder at the glowing green digits of his alarm clock, confirming that it was indeed as late as Jack had just stated. He looked back at Jack suspiciously. "We should have been at the Hub at least an hour ago. What happened to our alarms?"

"I turned them off," Jack replied nonchalantly, stretching himself out with a languid sigh. "Thought we deserved to sleep in. Actually, I've decided we're having the day off."

"Both of us?" Ianto stared at Jack incredulously. "But we can't... there's the Rift, and Myfanwy..."

"Sure we can." Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him closer again. "The world will just have to manage without us for the day. We can stop by the Hub later and feed Myfanwy, and with a bit of luck the Rift will behave itself."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've got it all worked out." Ianto couldn't quite stop a grin from spreading across his face as he contemplated the idea of spending a normal, Torchwood-free day with Jack, no matter how unlikely that seemed.

He pressed his lips to Jack's and kissed him slowly, enjoying the sensation of Jack's rough, stubbled skin against his own. It was oddly reassuring that despite Jack's unique condition and evolved biology, he grew facial hair just like any other regular man.

"So, what are we going to do with ourselves then?" he asked, pulling back far enough to meet Jack's eyes.

"Well, for a start, I plan to take full advantage of the fact that I'm currently naked, in a large, comfortable bed, with a gorgeous, equally naked Welshman." Jack paused, looking thoughtful. "I was thinking I'll cook tonight... we can have a nice dinner together, maybe a movie afterwards. As for the rest of the day, there's always naked hide and seek... or strip poker... or naked Twister... or strip Scrabble... actually, now I come to think about it, there's quite a list."

"Dinner sounds lovely," Ianto agreed, mentally steeling himself for the devastation to his kitchen that inevitably accompanied Jack's culinary efforts. "Is it just me," he continued, trying to keep a straight face. "Or do all your games seem to have a common theme?"

Any attempt by Jack to look innocent was derailed by the salacious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hadn't noticed."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I suppose naked Twister might be fun," he conceded.

Jack's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yup." Ianto nodded, inordinately pleased to see Jack's playful side emerging again after his deeply melancholy state from the day before. It was good to see Jack smile again, without the effort seeming forced.

Staring into the mischievous blue depths of Jack's eyes, he experienced the warm flutter of emotion that was becoming more and more common when they were together like this. It still caught him off-guard sometimes, the enormity of Jack's presence, combined with the often striking dichotomy of his nature. Jack was formidable and intimating, yet vulnerable, sometimes tentative, and often astonishingly gentle. He wondered if he was being overly fanciful in thinking he could spend his lifetime trying to chart and understand the numerous facets of the enigmatic Captain. He couldn't imagine finding anyone else who so completely fascinated and captivated him in the way that Jack did.

Sometimes he felt so small and insignificant compared to Jack... so inadequate and ill-equipped to deal with everything that Jack was. Yet, he forcibly reminded himself, of all the places Jack could be, and of all the people he could be with, he chose to be here with him.

Jack's smile softened as he slowly brushed his fingertips along the line of Ianto's jaw, teasing the unshaven skin before scratching his thumb lightly back and forward over Ianto's chin.

"I like seeing you this way," he murmured. "All sleep-rumpled and scruffy. As much as I adore seeing you in your suits and groomed to perfection, this..." He paused and stroked his fingers through Ianto's hair, ruffling it gently. His hand then settled on the back of Ianto's head and he eased him closer until their lips brushed together. "This is very nice too. You're adorable, Ianto Jones... completely and utterly adorable."

Ianto pulled away, scowling at Jack. Although he appreciated Jack's flattery, it was hardly what a self-respecting, albeit somewhat insecure – at least when it came to Jack – young man in his prime wanted to hear from his very masculine bed partner.

"What?" Jack asked, looking confused.

Ianto huffed. "Adorable? It's not exactly what a bloke wants to hear from another bloke, Jack. Especially when the two blokes in question are naked in the other bloke's bed."

To his further annoyance, Jack looked like he was about to burst into laughter. "Why not? You can call me adorable if you want. I don't mind. After all, I am pretty damn adorable. You'd only be telling the truth."

Ianto smirked in spite of himself. "I could call you a lot of things. Modest definitely not being one of them."

Jack simply laughed, his eyes dancing with amusement. Then with one swift movement, he tossed back the bed covers and reached down to Ianto's crotch, beginning to stroke him insistently. "You're also sexy as hell and sinfully irresistible."

Ianto groaned as his body began to respond with unrestrained enthusiasm to Jack's ministrations. "I suppose that's better," he murmured, a flush of arousal coursing over him. He gasped as Jack gave a sharp twist of his wrist, then teased his thumb over Ianto's sensitive crown. "Mmm. That's, uh... that's nice."

Jack grinned and pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips. Leaning down and pressing their bodies together, Jack kissed him deeply. "So, I'm forgiven?"

"Yes, all right," Ianto allowed, shifting his hips to rub himself against Jack and receiving a groan of pleasure for his efforts.

"Good," Jack muttered, groaning again. "Because otherwise, I might have had to stop."

Ianto raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "I seriously doubt you'd do that."

"You're probably right," Jack agreed with a devilish grin. "Always a first time though."

He reached for the drawer of the bedside table and fumbled for a moment, then quickly prepared himself as Ianto watched on avidly. Straddling him once more, Jack lined himself up and slowly lowered his body, bracing his hands on Ianto's shoulders and moaning softly. Ianto grasped Jack's hips, letting out a breathless whimper. He closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the intense sensation of Jack's slick, tight heat engulfing him.

Jack wrapped his arms around him, pulling him upright, and he captured Ianto's mouth in a hungry, breathtaking kiss. Still cradling Ianto in his arms, he lowered them down onto the bed again and began sliding himself up and down the full length of Ianto's achingly hard erection.

Ianto buried his left hand in Jack's hair, pulling him into another passionate kiss. Reaching down with his other hand, he began stroking Jack, matching their leisurely rhythm. The warm rush of pleasure was intoxicating, and as his mind and body surrendered to the potent, heady sensations, Ianto couldn't imagine a more perfect way to start the day.

No further words were exchanged, the only sounds their frequent, soft moans as they clung to each other and continued moving together. They were now so used to each other's bodies, both knowing how to extract every nuance of pleasure from one another. Jack was always attentive, generous, and admirably single-minded, seeming to find as much joy in the pleasure he was able to give as from what he received. Given Jack's long life, it didn't entirely surprise Ianto that the older man could effortlessly reduce him to a writhing mass of pleading desperation. However, what did continue to astonish him was that he'd proven himself capable of doing the same to Jack.

Ianto climaxed first, his entire body trembling as he thrust upwards and erupted deep inside Jack. After two more firm strokes of his hand, Jack followed, unleashing a loud groan as his body arced upwards, shooting his release over Ianto's stomach and chest. Mesmerised by the look of euphoric abandonment in Jack's handsome features, Ianto watched with fascination as several intense shudders rippled over the planes of Jack's body.

They rested quietly on the bed afterwards, Ianto stretched out on his back, Jack on his side, his head resting on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto sighed contently as Jack's hand roamed up and down the length of his torso, the exploring fingers teasing through the covering of dark, silky hair that Jack always seemed so enamoured with.

He'd never thought he could be so comfortable like this, completely naked, spread out and on display, relishing the attention of his bedmate. In the past, before Jack, he'd always been quick to cover himself up after sex, feeling awkward and self-conscious. But Jack had an enviable talent for somehow managing to discover and nurture new, startling aspects of himself he'd never known had previously existed.

Jack's hand stilled over Ianto's stomach and he pushed himself up onto the elbow of his other arm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice unusually hesitant.

Ianto looked up at him curiously. "What for?"

Jack shook his head with what seemed to be regret. "I haven't been fair to you. I kidded myself that keeping things simple and uncomplicated would be better. But I knew you were special... right from the start, I knew this was different."

"Jack, it's not like you ever mislead me," Ianto said gently, surprised by Jack's admission, but warmed by his words. He shifted into a semi-upright position, adjusting the pillow behind him. "Besides, I wasn't sure what I wanted either. I mean, I realised I wanted this, but it took me a while to come to terms with being with another man. Plus, I was still getting over Lisa."

"And now?" Jack asked, looking at him intently.

"A lot has changed since then," Ianto replied with a shrug, still surprising himself with his ready acceptance of how much his life had changed. "Things are different now."

Jack nodded. "Yes, they are. And while I might not have mislead you, that's no excuse for me being a coward. You're important too, Ianto. You shouldn't need to make excuses for me. I want you to be happy."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't really as simple as that, and he'd never ask Jack for more than he seemed willing to give, especially with what he knew about Jack's circumstances. But he decided not to press that particular point. "So, what are you saying here, Jack?"

Jack sighed and stared down at where his hand was still resting on Ianto's stomach. "That I want more," he eventually replied, looking at him earnestly. "I want this..." He waved his hand between the two of them. "Spending nights together, being with you when you wake up... having lazy mornings like today. I want to make the most of our time together... at least, as much as Torchwood and our situation allows. I can spend some nights here, maybe once a week or so, and you can stay over at the Hub sometimes if you want to. I know it's not much, and our work will always come first." He paused as a flicker of sorrow appeared in his eyes. "I've made so many mistakes, Ianto. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, and I have a great many regrets. I don't want this to be one of them."

The heartfelt sincerity in Jack's words dispelled any lingering doubts Ianto might have otherwise contemplated. His greatest fear was causing Jack further pain, more so than his own potential heartache, but living with regret and loneliness seemed so much worse. He smiled gently at Jack. "Okay," he said simply.

"Okay?" Jack asked, looking at him warily.

"I want all of that too," Ianto said with completely honesty, leaning into Jack and kissing him. Jack sighed against his mouth and kissed him back.

"Now that's settled, how about I make us some breakfast?" Ianto suggested, realising he was actually quite hungry. "Porridge and coffee?"

Jack chuckled, his face alight with an expression of amusement and affection. "Sounds perfect," he replied with a warm smile.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Notes:** Not much story development here I'm afraid, just a bit of a light interlude. Hopefully it's still an enjoyable read. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for some greatly appreciated feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Two**

_**October 13th, 2004**_

Ianto entered the Hub, smiling as Myfanwy greeted him with an enthusiastic squawk from where she was perched on the distant walkway above the glass-walled armoury. Giving her a little wave, he deposited his keys, wallet and phone on his desk, and made his way over to the kitchen area.

Putting the bag of donuts he'd picked up on the way to work off to one side, he retrieved their two coffee mugs and turned his concentration to the familiar routine. His resolve to put Jack on a diet had lasted all of two days, having not anticipated his inability to withstand the pouting, grumbling and moodiness that had been the result of a sugar-deprived Captain. When he'd discovered the older man lurking in the boardroom and looking like a guilty schoolboy, a suspicious smear of strawberry jam on the corner of his mouth, Ianto had simply shook his head in exasperation and admitted defeat. He'd promptly resumed Jack's supply of glucose-laden treats the following day.

Turning on the coffee machine and realising their supply of coffee beans was dangerously low, he made a mental note to replenish their stocks the next time he was above ground. While they were both unapologetic caffeine addicts, the amount of beans they went through in a given week was nonetheless alarming. The machine gurgled and spluttered as he idly contemplated whether he should attempt to wean them back from the excesses of their addiction. He quickly dismissed the notion as a lost cause.

A moment later, soft, almost furtive footsteps approached, and he was unsurprised when a pair of strong arms slid beneath his suit jacket and wrapped firmly around his waist.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones," Jack said, his chin resting comfortably on Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto smiled and leaned back, pressing himself against the familiar body. "Morning, Jack. Everything all right last night?"

"Yeah. Just a couple of Weevils and some space junk." Jack's warm breath ghosted over the side of Ianto's face, causing his heart to beat just a little bit faster. "Nothing I couldn't easily handle."

"That's good then," Ianto acknowledged as he valiantly focused on filling their coffee mugs.

He felt Jack's nose nuzzle against the sensitive skin just behind his ear, then heard him draw in a deep breath. "You smell different today," Jack murmured.

"Do I?" Ianto asked curiously, amused that Jack always seemed to notice anything different about him, no matter how slight or insubstantial. "Better or worse than usual?"

"Oh, you always smell amazing." Jack sniffed and inhaled deeply again. "But something's definitely different."

Ianto frowned as he mentally ran through his morning grooming regimen, trying to figure out if he'd forgotten something or done anything differently. "Oh," he said as realisation finally struck. "I used a different shampoo today. Last time I went to buy some they didn't have my usual one."

"Mmm, I like it," Jack purred against Ianto's ear, the sound sending a shiver of arousal coursing over his body. "Vanilla and a hint of sandalwood if I'm not mistaken."

Ianto felt his eyebrows lift upwards in surprise as his mind recalled the supposed herbal benefits of the new shampoo. "Yup, that's right. Well done."

"Fifty-first century sense of smell," Jack stated, still nuzzling and sounding decidedly smug.

"Show off," Ianto teased.

Jack's hold on him tightened, his right hand drifting downwards and reaching perilously close to Ianto's crotch. "Jack, we're working," he admonished, turning in the other man's arms and fixing him with narrowed eyes. "No shenanigans during work hours. That's the rule, remember?"

"Come on, Ianto," Jack murmured with a hint of pleading desperation. His hands moved slowly up Ianto's torso, stroking sensually across his chest. Suddenly Jack paused and looked inquisitive, his thumb rubbing teasingly over the fabric of Ianto's shirt, just below the collar. "Is this a new shirt too? I've never seen you wear pink before."

"Bought it the other day," Ianto replied, recognising Jack's attempt to distract him and struggling to stifle a contented moan as the warmth of the other man's hands reached his flesh.

He wondered not for the first time about his uncharacteristically bold choice of shirt. He'd gone shopping with the intention of buying a couple of new shirts in his usual preferred colours of blue, purple and red when the pink shirt had caught his eye. As far as pinks went it was fairly subtle and not overly lurid or vibrant, but it was still definitely and undeniably pink. "Is it okay? Not too, um..." he trailed off awkwardly, not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Oh, yeah. A lot more than okay," Jack replied, a hungry glint appearing in his eyes. His hand caressed along the length of Ianto's blue silk tie and continued downwards again. "It's a stunning colour on you."

"Jack..." Ianto warned again, attempting to remain implacable despite his body's treacherous response to the other man's proximity and teasing fingers.

Jack sighed and rested his hands on Ianto's hips. "You can't seriously expect to me not to want to ravish you senseless when you look and smell this good." He looked imploringly at Ianto. "All right, just a kiss then?" he asked, apparently conceding defeat.

Although he was trying to remain stern, Ianto couldn't blame Jack for feeling frustrated. They'd had no personal time together to speak of for the past several days, and he was feeling the loss keenly. They'd begun to settle into a routine of sorts, with Jack staying over on Saturday nights and sometimes on the odd night during the week, and Ianto spending an evening or two each week at the Hub. However, the previous Saturday's plans had been circumvented by Ianto's sister's birthday celebrations, which Jack had insisted Ianto attend, reminding him not to let his outside life drift.

He'd had been forced to put on a brave face, enduring Rhiannon's fussing and endless questions, along with her unsubtle lamenting on what she thought was his non-existent love life. Much to Ianto's horror, she'd even gone so far as to suggest various single women she knew who would be 'perfect' for him. Thankfully, Johnny, Ianto's uncouth and often crass brother-in-law, had taken pity on him and admonished his wife, telling her that Ianto was more than capable of finding himself a new girlfriend when he was ready.

The more petty side of Ianto's nature had wanted to tell Rhiannon about Jack, assuring her that his love life was in actual fact quite spectacular. He'd gleefully imagined her reaction to being confronted with Jack in all his ridiculously handsome glory, dimples and flirtatious charm cranked up to maximum effect. He suspected that for the first time in her life, Rhiannon Davies might have been rendered speechless. Then he'd thought about the field day Johnny would have with the revelation, cringing inwardly as he'd imagined some of the colourful comments the fellow Welshman would undoubtedly provide.

He and his sister had never been close. A part of him still resented her for abandoning him at the earliest opportunity, leaving him on his own at age fifteen to cope with an emotionally distant, non-communicative, alcoholic father. Gerwyn Jones had died of a heart-attack just after Ianto's eighteenth birthday, a little over five years after their mother had passed away following an arduous battle with pancreatic cancer. Essentially alone in the world, Ianto had finally achieved the escape from the poor working-class estate in Newport he'd so desperately craved, and he'd never looked back.

While he didn't particularly care what Rhiannon and Johnny thought about him, he did quite enjoy occasionally seeing his niece, Mica, and his nephew, David. They were little terrors but he loved them nonetheless, even though he'd never known how to interact with them and preferred them in very small doses, much like his sister. There just seemed to be no point in broadcasting news that would only cause unnecessary drama. Besides, his involvement with Jack still felt new and fragile, plus there was the whole other issue of keeping it hidden from the outside world.

Torchwood was hardly a nine-to-five job, but he felt strongly that they needed to maintain boundaries between their professional and private relationships, despite both being inescapably intertwined. From the minute he entered the Hub each morning until at least six o'clock in the evening, he did his best to uphold their employer-employee relationship, even though the employer in question sometimes had rather different ideas.

"Fine, one kiss," he finally agreed, attempting to meet Jack's eyes with an uncompromising gaze. "But that's all you get, Jack. No ravishing until tonight."

"You're a cruel man, Ianto Jones," Jack muttered, then grasped Ianto's face in both hands, claiming his mouth in a hungry, toe-curling kiss, and cutting off any retort Ianto might have otherwise made.

With Ianto's back pressed up against the edge of the bench-top, Jack's hand slid down to his crotch again and rubbed firmly as he deepened the kiss, causing Ianto to groan involuntarily from the dual onslaught. Just as his resolve threatened to crumble, his underwear and trousers having become unbearably tight, Jack pulled away completely. A breathless whimper escaped Ianto's lips from the sudden loss of contact, and a self-satisfied grin spread across Jack's face, his eyes shifting down to the prominent bulge in Ianto's pin-striped trousers.

"Of course, I'd be more than happy to take care of that for you," Jack said teasingly, meeting Ianto's eyes again. "After all, as your employer, it's my job to ensure you're satisfied at all times... but I'd hate to be accused of harassment in the workplace."

Ianto rolled his eyes as he shifted his hips, trying to get some relief. "Since when has that ever stopped you," he muttered.

Jack shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. "Perhaps I'm trying to reform my misguided ways."

He reached into the bag of donuts and plucked one out, taking a huge bite as he reached around Ianto for his coffee mug. "Thanks for the coffee and donut, Ianto," he added casually before turning away.

Ianto slumped back against the bench, futilely wriggling his hips again. He glared at Jack's retreating form, noting the immodest swagger. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath.

###

Once Ianto had managed to get himself under control, he continued his morning routine, and after several hours working in the archives, he returned upstairs and settled at his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. The Hub was peaceful with Myfanwy in her nest and Jack having gone out earlier to follow up on an investigation.

He tapped on his keyboard and opened the Rift data he'd been attempting to analyse. He'd recently come up with the theory that it might be possible to predict the activity of the Rift, and after some initial analysis, he'd been pursuing the train of thought in his spare time. He'd compiled data on the Rift itself along with other factors including atmospheric conditions, solar flares, seismic readings, background radiation, and lunar cycles. The more he studied the various data he'd collected, the more convinced he was that there was a pattern to be found.

He'd talked to Jack about it a couple of times, and while the older man had listened patiently and had not actually disagreed with his findings, even praising Ianto for his insight and initiative, he'd said he believed it to be a futile endeavour. Jack had cited that some exceptionally clever minds had attempted to better understand the Rift over the one-hundred and twenty years since its discovery, yet it continued to remain largely a mystery.

The most significant advance in all that time had been the construction of the Rift manipulator located in the centre of the Hub. Ianto had studied the reports about the substantial device which had been built between 1913 and 1914 with the aid of an alien scientist who had been coerced into working for Torchwood. However, the effects of the device had proven to be too unpredictable, and Jack had explained that one of its critical components had been mysteriously lost over the years, while another was secured in his safe. Meanwhile, the Rift remained an enigma even to Jack, despite his advanced knowledge of physics, teleportation, and time travel. But Jack had readily admitted that his knowledge was limited, and that science and mathematics weren't his strengths.

Although Ianto didn't agree that the research was futile, he also didn't have the necessary scientific or mathematical knowledge to derive a workable formula for predicting where and when the Rift would open. The sheer number of variables alone was daunting. He would have liked to consult with some of Torchwood One's scientists, but he knew Jack would never condone that course of action. Anyway, he doubted Yvonne Hartman would allow her resources to be diverted to what she would undoubtedly consider a worthless undertaking.

After drinking his coffee and staring at the data for a few more minutes, he sighed with resignation and closed the files again.

A distracted glance at his desk calendar reminded him of the significance of the day. Exactly one year ago, he'd arrived at Torchwood Three, and his life had since changed beyond all recognition. He smiled to himself as he remembered meeting the intimidating Captain for the first time. If he'd known then what that encounter would ultimately lead to, he knew he might have been tempted to turn tail and head straight back to London. He shuddered at the thought of how much he would have missed out on.

His mind drifted back to the day he and Jack had spent together scarcely three weeks earlier. They'd had fun, Jack had been charming and attentive, and they'd just enjoyed being together. Jack had cooked a delicious meal for them that evening, and his uncharacteristic nervousness had been both surprising and endearing. The Captain had seemed determined to prove himself, and Ianto suspected it was as much for Jack's sake as for his own. He'd reassured Jack that the romantic meal he'd gone to so much trouble to prepare was perfect, and he fondly remembered the shy smile that had seemed so out of place on Jack's expressive features.

As he'd expected, Jack's little games had become a part of their time together. While he still drew the line at naked hide and seek, he was otherwise happy to indulge the other man, especially since their games inevitably allowed him to feast his eyes on a naked Jack. Not that he was particularly shy around Jack any more either, and since their first time together, Jack had never had much trouble getting Ianto out of his clothes.

No matter what the game, Jack was a shameless cheat, but Ianto was a fast learner and he had some tricks of his own. He'd also learned to take full advantage of how easily Jack could be distracted, and for the most part they were evenly matched in their deviousness. He also had to admit that naked Twister was actually a lot of fun.

And when a taunting voice whispered from the darkest recesses of his mind, telling him that this wouldn't last... that he could never be exciting or special enough to keep someone like Jack interested... that he didn't deserve true happiness... that since Lisa had ultimately found him unworthy, Jack would eventually reject him too... he resolutely pushed those malignant thoughts far away.

###

"Wow, one year already, huh," Jack stated before shovelling another forkful of fried rice into his mouth.

"Yep," Ianto replied, popping a piece of Kung Pao chicken into his mouth and then disdainfully pushing aside several pieces of carrot with his chopsticks.

"Ianto." Jack's voice held a note of warning, and Ianto glanced up to see the other man looking pointedly at the collection of untouched vegetables on the side of his plate.

Ianto scrunched up his face and groaned dramatically. "Oh, fine," he muttered, viciously spearing a piece of carrot with a chopstick and sticking it into his mouth.

"Good boy," Jack said with a grin and resumed eating. "Well, neither of us have tried to kill each other yet, so I think that's a pretty good sign," he continued a few moments later.

Ianto chuckled. "There's been a few close calls."

"True," Jack said with a laugh. "And you've got that brutal right-hook. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Ianto smiled softly as he remembered those few times when Jack had very nearly driven him to distraction. Their training sessions had proven to be a useful method of stress relief.

He'd been surprised when Jack had arrived back at the Hub with Chinese takeaway for their lunch, and even more so when the older man had announced they were celebrating Ianto's one-year anniversary at Torchwood Cardiff. He was deeply touched by the thoughtful and unexpected gesture.

"You surprised me," Jack said in a reflective tone after they'd continued eating for a minute or so. "That first day you arrived here. I thought I'd have you scurrying back to London in no time, but you stood up to me right from the start. I didn't make it easy on you, but you never backed down." He paused and smiled at Ianto affectionately. "A year later and you still continue to surprise and impress me, and for someone who's lived as long as I have, that doesn't happen very often."

"Thanks, Jack," Ianto murmured self-consciously, feeling a rush of warmth flood over him. "I was so nervous that day I met you. Terrified, actually."

"Really?" Jack asked, sounding almost pleased.

"Absolutely," Ianto assured him, trying to keep a straight-face. "Shivers down my spine."

Jack looked at him sceptically. "You didn't look scared."

"Oh, it... passed." Ianto broke into a wide grin.

Jack growled deep in his throat before bursting into laughter and giving Ianto's shoulder a playful nudge with his own. "Cheeky bastard."

Ianto continued to grin, enjoying the sound of Jack's laughter. He loved to make Jack laugh, and it was a sound he'd grown accustomed to hearing more often in recent times. "Of course, once I'd unleashed my secret weapon, you didn't stand a chance."

"Ah, so that's what you call it," Jack said slyly, glancing down leeringly at Ianto's crotch. "I just call mine Big Jack."

Ianto rolled his eyes and gave him an outraged glare. "Jack! I'm talking about my coffee."

Jack laughed, looking entirely unrepentant. "I know, I just couldn't resist. You've been seducing me from day one haven't you?"

"Pretty much." Ianto shrugged, smiling shyly. "Just took me six months to realise it."

"I'm glad you did," Jack said, suddenly serious and gazing at Ianto intently. "I like being seduced by you."

Ianto held Jack's gaze, momentarily captivated by the blue depths of the other man's eyes. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against Jack's lips, earning himself a warm smile as he pulled away. Smiling in return, he turned his attention back to his plate.

"So, do I get a twelve month review?" he asked after he'd reluctantly eaten a couple more pieces of vegetables.

"Hmm." Jack's concentration had also returned to his food. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I think you need to review my training." Ianto paused and waited for Jack's eyes to meet his again. Then he lowered his voice suggestively. "Actually, I think an extensive review is called for."

Jack gulped down his mouthful of food and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Oh, do you now?"

"Yes. A comprehensive and thorough review," Ianto insisted, his mind conjuring up some intriguing possibilities. "We could begin in the shooting range at eighteen-hundred hours?"

Jack's eyes widened and seemed to glaze over for a moment. "It's a date," he agreed, nodding eagerly. "But don't expect me to go easy on you."

"Of course not, sir," Ianto said with mock seriousness. "Wouldn't want it any other way."

Jack laughed again and they continued reminiscing as they ate, sitting side-by-side on the Hub's sofa, just like they had so many months earlier. It occurred to Ianto how much happier Jack was now, and that he'd played a part in bringing about the remarkable transformation.

"Thanks for lunch," he said with a smile when they'd eventually finished eating. "It was delicious."

"Any time." Jack rested his hand on Ianto's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. "So, no regrets?" he asked quietly.

"None," Ianto assured him sincerely, settling his own hand over Jack's. "None at all."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Notes:** Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed the previous chapter, including the guest reviews which I really do appreciate. And a special thank you to Prothrombintime for invaluable reassurance and feedback.

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Three**

_**October 29th, 2004**_

"Mr. Jones? Ms. Hartman will see you now."

"Thank you." Ianto stood up and smiled politely at the immaculately dressed, serious young woman. She glanced at him from behind her neatly organised desk, giving him the merest hint of a tight, courteous smile before returning her attention back to her computer keyboard and monitor.

Clearing his throat, he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket, flicking away an imaginary speck of lint from the charcoal-grey wool. He'd worn his most austere suit for the occasion, pairing it with a crisp white shirt and a sombre tie with a simple pattern of alternating blue and grey diagonal stripes.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked briskly across the white, pristine expanse of the outer office and reached the doorway on the opposite side. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the churning of his empty stomach. He'd woken early after a restless night in the unfamiliar bed of his nearby hotel room, his stomach feeling like it was full of rats. With the thought of food threatening to make him violently ill, he'd foregone breakfast and settled on a single cup of strong black coffee. In hindsight he realised that probably hadn't been the best of ideas, but he needed to keep his wits about him so a caffeine fix had been essential.

Reminding himself of Jack's reassurances that everything would be fine, he schooled his features into his best professional mask and hoped his poker face was every bit as impenetrable as the Captain light-heartedly claimed. Although Ianto didn't consider himself to have an overly mendacious nature, he was fully prepared to be judicious with the truth, and he had no qualms about lying outright if necessary. In fact, he fully expected that his ability to remain composed under pressure would be tested to the limit over the next several hours.

With grim determination, he pushed open the thick, opaque glass door and crossed the threshold, allowing the door to close smoothly behind him.

"Ah, Ianto. Good to see you again." Yvonne Hartman rose gracefully from behind her large, glass-topped desk. Smiling widely, she stepped forward and shook his hand. "I hope the journey from Cardiff was a pleasant one?"

"Good morning, ma'am," Ianto replied, smiling in return. "Yes, the trip was fine, thank you. Very enjoyable."

The director of Torchwood looked identical to when he'd last seen her a little over a year earlier. In her late-thirties, slimly built and above average in height, she was attired in a perfectly tailored black skirt and jacket, the style sharp yet feminine, and complimented by tasteful, understated silver jewellery. With flowing waves of thick blond hair cascading down over her shoulders combined with flawless skin and make-up, Yvonne Hartman was striking, stylish, and attractive. She exuded confidence and cool, detached elegance. Everything about her seemed to embody the epitome of a successful corporate, career-minded woman. However, beneath the smiling, personable exterior, Ianto had always thought there was a ruthless, uncompromising woman, with a highly questionable moral compass. There was a hardness beneath her perceptive green eyes, and a hint of malevolence that made his skin crawl.

She looked at him reproachfully. "Please, it's Yvonne. You know I like to keep things informal here at Torchwood Tower. We must move with the times, after all."

Ianto nodded and offered up a contrite expression. "Yes, of course."

Feeling his resolve momentarily falter under her intense scrutiny, he glanced to his right where a huge expanse of glass provided a stunning, panoramic view of Canary Wharf, the winding River Thames, and the entire south-west of London. Their location on the forty-fifth floor of the towering building allowed for an unobstructed vista of almost the entire city.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" she stated proudly, walking over to the window with the loud click of stiletto heels on the smooth, shiny floor tiles. With her hands clasped firmly behind her back, she stared out at the city.

"Spectacular," Ianto agreed, taking a couple of steps closer, but keeping a respectable distance. He had the unpleasant sensation of watching a monarch admiring her realm.

She turned back and looked at him with an expression of mild curiosity. "You must miss being here?"

Ianto nodded. "Sometimes, yes. Although Cardiff isn't without its charms."

"Yes, I'm sure that's true," she agreed in a tone that failed to hide her lack of sincerity. She walked back to her desk and sat down again, gesturing towards the empty chair opposite. "Relax and make yourself comfortable, Ianto."

"Thank you, Yvonne." Ianto sat down, keeping his back straight and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

"I thought it would be beneficial to have a face-to-face meeting since you've been at Torchwood Three for a year now," she began, resting her hands on top of a thick red folder on the desk in front of her and looking at him intently. "Thank you for your reports by the way, I must say that some of them make for very interesting reading. I'd like to go through some of the details with you this morning if that's all right?"

Ianto smiled amiably. "Absolutely."

"Before we get into that, I'm curious to know how you've been getting on with Captain Harkness?"

"Well, as I'm sure you know, Captain Harkness can be..." Ianto paused and frowned for effect, pretending to search for the appropriate words. "He can be a difficult man, to put it politely."

Yvonne chuckled, looking surprisingly amused. "I suspect others would be far less generous in their assessment."

Ianto allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upwards into a smirk. "Oh, of that, I have no doubt." He took a deep breath before continuing. "He wasn't at all happy about my arrival at Torchwood Three. For the first few weeks, he hardly spoke to me. I think he hoped I'd give up and return to London. For the six months after that, he barely tolerated my presence."

"And now?" she prompted.

"I believe we've settled into an amiable working relationship." Choosing his words carefully, Ianto gave her a small self-deprecating smile. "It's taken time, but I believe he now trusts me, at least, to a point. He finally accepts that I'm useful to him."

"Hmm, I see." Yvonne sat back in her chair, her cool gaze never leaving him. "Well, he seems to think very highly of you, Ianto. He says that the Cardiff branch has never run more smoothly. He also says you've made great strides in cataloguing Torchwood Three's archives and bringing them into the twenty-first century."

"That's very kind of him," Ianto said, allowing a hint of surprise to filter into his voice. "Uncharacteristically so, in fact. As I've explained in my reports, organising the Torchwood Three archives has been a significant undertaking. Without any staff dedicated to research and archiving, they'd been neglected for a long time." He shook his head disapprovingly. "Frankly, they were in a deplorable state."

"Do you have an estimate of your progress so far?" she asked.

"A little over fifty percent," Ianto replied apologetically. "Realistically, it could still take another year or more."

Yvonne frowned. "Really, that long?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Ianto breathed out a small sigh. "It's very time-consuming and painstaking work."

She nodded, but her expression was entirely unsympathetic. "To be honest, I'd hoped you'd uncover more useful items than you have so far."

"I'd hoped so too," Ianto agreed quickly. It was an accusation he'd expected, knowing her hunger for alien technology. "Unfortunately much of what comes through the Rift is little more than space junk, and the more interesting stuff is often damaged beyond repair. Captain Harkness refers to the Rift's output as the flotsam and jetsam of the universe." He raised an eyebrow curiously. "The Captain mentioned a particle weapon that was recovered several years ago which showed promise?"

"Yes. We've got one of our best R&D teams working on reverse engineering it. It's slow, difficult work, but we're confident that we'll be able to replicate it eventually." A smug smile crept across Yvonne's ruby-coloured lips. "We're also working on a large scale version which we hope we'll be able to use to defend against alien ships."

Ianto widened his eyes and hoped he looked sufficiently impressed. "And the sonic blaster I sent you six months ago?"

"We're working on that too. But, as you suspected, the power supply had burnt out. We're trying to fabricate a replacement."

Ianto nodded. "The Captain said that might be a problem."

Yvonne stared at him for a moment, her eyes searching his features. Looking back at her expectantly, he wondered if his demeanour was perhaps a little too controlled and polished. He smiled gently and shifted in his chair, reaching up and smoothing down the length of his tie with his hand. The subtle distraction worked and Yvonne's eyes lowered to the desk, giving him a momentary reprieve.

"Captain Harkness has asked me to make your assignment to the Cardiff branch permanent," she said a moment later, her eyes meeting his again and narrowing slightly. "Did you know anything about that?"

"No," Ianto replied, shaking his head firmly and trying not to show any outward sign of his relief at the prospect. Returning to London and Torchwood Tower had only served to reinforce that his home was now in Cardiff with Jack. It had always been a concern at the back of his mind that he might be recalled to London, especially as he and Jack had grown closer. While he hoped Jack would have intervened if that had occurred, if he was permanently assigned to Torchwood Three, it would be less of a worry. "No, I didn't," he reaffirmed.

"But you're not surprised?" Yvonne asked, looking at him speculatively.

"Not especially," Ianto replied evenly. "As I said, I believe the Captain realises I'm useful."

Yvonne nodded, but she didn't look entirely convinced. "So, you don't have any objections to remaining in Cardiff on a permanent basis?"

"Actually, no. The work is challenging, and on a personal note, I have family and friends in Cardiff." Ianto paused thoughtfully. "Plus, I believe I'm more of an asset at Torchwood Three than I am here in London. It could also be beneficial in fostering better relations with the Cardiff branch."

"I completely agree. I'll have the paperwork prepared to make transfer official." Yvonne smiled broadly, apparently pleased with her altruism, and Ianto wondered if he was imagining how disingenuous the expression seemed on her features. "I believe good work should be rewarded," she added, her smile not faltering.

Ianto nodded, smiling in return. "Thank you."

"However, I would like to know if you think Jack Harkness is fit to continue running the Cardiff branch." Her magnanimous expression promptly vanished, replaced with a look that was hard and uncompromising. "He has the position by default and he isn't someone I consider to be a team player."

"You're thinking of replacing him?" Ianto asked, unable to fully hide the incredulity from his voice as a frisson of panic clenched at his chest.

"I've certainly considered putting someone else in charge. The Captain is useful, despite being stubborn and uncontrollable, but I'm not convinced he should be running Torchwood Three, especially not single-handedly. However, he's quite well connected... removing him from his position could be difficult." She paused and leaned forward, fixing him with a piercing stare. "I assume you know about his unique condition?"

Ianto nodded, having anticipated the question. "Yes. The Brecon Beacons incident. Captain Harkness was mortally injured while we were trying to escape."

Yvonne's eyes widened, her expression of gleeful curiosity causing Ianto to angrily clench his right hand into a fist between his knees. "You saw him die?" she asked eagerly.

He nodded again and held his features steady, not trusting himself to speak for a moment.

"That wasn't in your report," she said, a frown creasing her smooth brow.

"No. It didn't seem relevant." Ianto willed himself to remain calm and detached. "Captain Harkness asked me not to include that particular detail. I saw no reason not to honour his request."

"I see," Yvonne said neutrally. She opened the folder in front of her and gazed down at the first page. "Recently there was the St. Telios Hospital situation. You stated that the Captain travelled back to 1918 via the Cardiff Rift and had himself put into cryo-freeze in order to return to the present."

Ianto nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

"A shame." A smile crept across her lips again, and Ianto felt a cold shiver tremble down the length of his spine. "If I'd known what was happening, I might have been tempted to order you to keep him frozen."

It took all of Ianto's inner strength not to recoil in horror. "Respectfully, Yvonne, I think that would have been a mistake."

"Hmm. Perhaps." She frowned and stared hard at Ianto. "You like him then?"

"Not especially, no. But I've grown to respect him." Ianto gave a small shrug, attempting to feign indifference. "It's obvious that Captain Harkness is committed to safeguarding Cardiff, and I've seen nothing to suggest that he isn't completely loyal to Torchwood. I admire his dedication and skill. In all honesty, I don't think you could find a better person for the job."

Yvonne looked at him sceptically for a long moment, a hint of irritation flashing across her features. Then she breathed out a resigned sigh. "Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word for that. At least he seems to be reasonably competent, and better the devil you know, as the saying goes. By the way, has Captain Harkness ever mentioned the Doctor?"

Ianto didn't need to pretend to be surprised by the sudden non sequitur. "No. Never."

He watched as she retrieved a large photograph from the file and slid it across the desk. "This image was captured by a Torchwood operative in 1941 during the London Blitz."

Ianto picked up the photo, immediately feeling a shudder of shock and confusion as he stared down at the grainy, slightly blurred, black and white image.

It showed three people. The first he recognised as an incarnation of the mysterious time-travelling alien known as the Doctor. It was one of the younger versions that Torchwood had on record – the man was tall, with close-cropped dark hair, prominent ears, and wearing a black leather jacket. The second figure was a young blond woman, in her late teens he guessed, while the third was unmistakeably Jack Harkness. Jack's dark hair was shorter and arranged in a neat, military style, unlike the more contemporary, tousled style Ianto was so familiar with. Otherwise, the Jack in the photograph looked physically the same as he did in the present, with one notable exception... Jack in 1941 had a youthful, carefree appearance about his expressive features that present-day Jack usually lacked. This was clearly a Jack who hadn't yet been burdened with the curse of ageless, unending life.

"He was a companion of the Doctor?" he asked incredulously, the question slipping from his tongue before his brain had a chance to censor the words.

He glanced up at Yvonne, who was scrutinising him intently, before returning his gaze to the photograph. There was something mesmerising about this tangible visual evidence of Jack's past.

"It's certainly a possibility," she replied. "Perhaps the Doctor is somehow responsible for the Captain's condition. Did he provide you with any explanation after he revived?"

Ianto shook his head. Reluctantly he slid the photo back across the desk. "No. He just said that something happened to him a long time ago."

"Perhaps Captain Harkness doesn't trust you as much as you think?" Yvonne suggested archly.

"Perhaps," Ianto conceded, regretting that in light of this sudden revelation, the statement seemed to be not entirely untrue.

He thought he'd earned Jack's trust and respect, but it was possible he'd deluded himself. It didn't seem to make sense that Jack hadn't told him about being associated with Torchwood's sworn enemy. It was bad enough that Jack had allowed him to be completely blind-sided by Hartman of all people, but on a personal level he felt a sharp stab of hurt accompanied by a surge of anger.

"He's a very private man," he continued, the words sounding pathetic even to his own ears. "He doesn't talk about himself. Besides, we're colleagues, not friends."

"Yes, of course," Yvonne said quickly, but there was an undeniable hint of victory in her voice. The smug look on her face only served to intensify Ianto's annoyance as he struggled not to show any trace of emotion.

She put the photograph back inside the folder and smiled at him. "Now, there's some things I'd like to go through in your reports. Would you like some tea or coffee before we get started?"


	24. Chapter 24

******Author's Notes:** Thank you as always to everyone who continues to read and support this story. A special thanks also to Prothrombintime for invaluable and generously given feedback and suggestions. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**_October 29th, 2004_ (continued)**

It was over three hours later when Ianto finally departed from Yvonne Hartman's office. Wearily returning the brief but sympathetic smile he received from Yvonne's personal assistant, he collected the black leather case containing his laptop and files from where he'd left it beside her desk, and exited the outer office.

With a dull throb settling in behind his eyes and his stomach beginning to protest from a lack of food, he made his way briskly down the long, wide stretch of white corridor to the cluster of lifts at the furthest end. He needed some time alone to gather his thoughts.

Hartman's questions over every aspect of his tenure at Torchwood Three had been endless and highly detailed. He was still reeling from the revelation of Jack's association with the Doctor, and it had taken every ounce of his stoicism and composure to set aside his emotions so he could focus on answering her queries calmly and succinctly. Yvonne had clearly tried to get him off-balance, but he'd been determined not to allow her underhanded, yet admittedly effective tactics, to distract him. He was just relieved the meeting was finally over, and although it felt like a feeble victory at best, he felt confident he hadn't given any hint as to the true nature of his and Jack's relationship.

At the conclusion of the meeting Hartman had presented him with a list of artefacts to be transferred to London. Despite her polite words and innocuous smile, there was no doubt in his mind that it was an order and not a request. He knew Jack wouldn't be happy about it, but he was confident the Captain would grudgingly agree. The items were relatively benign, and he was grateful he wouldn't have a battle on his hands in relinquishing guardianship of them. It seemed like a small price to pay to keep Torchwood's administrator appeased, plus there was always the possibility that the items could prove useful in developing new defensive technologies.

More troubling, however, was Hartman's desire to expand the Cardiff team. It was a notion Ianto agreed with wholeheartedly, but one which he knew Jack remained stubbornly opposed. He'd attempted to buy some time by citing the Captain's distrustful nature, but he'd assured her he would do his best to persuade Jack to reconsider his position. He'd been surprised when she'd agreed without further debate. Tackling the contentious issue with Jack wasn't a task he was looking forward to in the least. _Like stags butting antlers,_ he thought dejectedly.

With a soft sigh of frustration, he stabbed the button on the panel next to the gleaming lift doors. Lost in his thoughts while he waited, he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until an achingly familiar and melodious voice reached his ears. "Ianto?"

Pressing his eyes closed and cursing under his breath, Ianto felt an immediate sense of anxious dread wash over him. Of course, he'd known the encounter was inevitable, but nonetheless, he'd futilely hoped to avoid an awkward reunion.

Opening his eyes again, he schooled his features, then turned around, and found himself staring into the warm, brown eyes of his ex-girlfriend. Lisa Hallett looked every bit as stunning as when he'd last seen her. Tall and svelte, with flawless dark skin and full, soft lips he'd always loved to kiss, Lisa was a strikingly beautiful woman.

"Lisa... uh, hi. How are you?" he asked, cringing inwardly at the stammer in his voice.

"Oh, not bad. Busy though. How about you?" She looked at him intently. "I heard you were back in London."

"I'm fine. Just back for a couple of days." Ianto managed to produce a wan smile. Despite himself, he couldn't help staring at her, transfixed as a myriad of emotions washed over him. "Yvonne wanted to meet with me."

Lisa chuckled as she looked him up and down. "Well, it seems like you survived the experience unscathed."

"Almost," Ianto agreed dryly with a brief, nervous chuckle of his own.

"You look really great, Ianto. Cardiff must agree with you." Lisa smiled hesitantly and took a step closer. "It's good to see you again."

"Thanks," Ianto replied awkwardly, shuffling his feet. "You too, Lisa."

He heard the lift doors open behind him, and glancing back, he stepped into the compartment, Lisa following close behind. Tightening his grip on the handle of his case and cursing silently to himself again, he plastered on a polite smile and wondered if his day could get any worse. "Um, what floor?"

"Twentieth." She reached across in front of him and pressed the appropriate button. "Thought I'd take a break and get some coffee. Feel like joining me? You can tell me all about the Cardiff branch."

"Thanks," he replied hurriedly, feeling slightly panicked. "But I need to get down to the archives. Sorry."

It wasn't a lie as he'd planned to use the remaining day and a half of his visit to cross-reference various artefacts neither he nor Jack had been able to identify with the Torchwood One database. The list of items was extensive and it would be a time-consuming process. "I've got quite a bit of work to get through before I head back," he added apologetically.

"You can spare five minutes, surely?" Lisa asked, a hint of admonishment in her voice and an unpleasant reminder of all the times she'd berated him for working too hard. "For old times sake."

Ianto wanted to refuse, but his innate politeness and desire to please prevailed. Resigned to his fate, he nodded. "Yeah, all right."

A few minutes later they were seated at a small table near one of the enormous windows of Torchwood's sprawling self-serve cafeteria and common area, their cups of coffee in front of them. It was almost half-past twelve and while there were a few people scattered around the room, a couple of whom Ianto recognised, it was mostly deserted. Ianto had rarely visited the large, sparsely furnished space, preferring to eat at his desk or go outside at lunchtime and wander around. Lisa had always been the more sociable of the two of them anyway, the proverbial life of the party, and a stark contrast to Ianto's quiet, introverted nature.

"So, what's it like being back in Cardiff?" Lisa asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "It seems strange you being back there. You said when you came to London that you'd never go back."

"I know, but things change I suppose." Ianto shrugged and smiled benignly. "I like being back there. And I get to see my sister and my niece and nephew."

"You're not coming back here then?" Lisa asked, looking at him doubtfully.

Ianto shook his head. "Yvonne's making my transfer permanent."

"Oh. I just thought..." Lisa paused with a frown as he looked at her expectantly. "Well, I suppose I thought you'd be back eventually."

"Doesn't look like it." Ianto took a sip of his coffee as he tried to think of a change of subject. "How's things going with Patrick?" he asked after a moment, not particularly wanting to know the answer, but hoping to draw attention away from himself.

Lisa looked down and fidgeted with her cup. "It didn't last," she answered eventually. "We split up a couple of months ago. He's seeing Melissa in R&D now."

"Oh, um... I'm sorry," Ianto murmured, not sure what else to say.

He'd never liked Patrick Johnson, a Torchwood One field operative who seemed to have far too high an opinion of himself, but he took no pleasure in knowing things hadn't worked out between them.

The pain and bitterness he'd once felt had mostly passed, and seeing Lisa again reinforced his conviction that things had ultimately worked out for the best. It was strange to look at this woman he'd once adored and loved so deeply, and to realise that those intense feelings no longer existed. In a way she felt like a stranger to him now. It was a sensation which was at once both profoundly saddening and a monumental relief. His lingering vestiges of doubt had finally been put to rest.

He'd always care about Lisa and he'd always remember her as the beautiful, vivacious woman he'd once loved, but he was no longer in love with her. He wanted her to move on and be happy. It was with absolute certainty that he knew his heart belonged elsewhere, no matter how trepidatious that knowledge was at the present point in time.

Lisa shrugged, looking back up at him. "And you? Anyone special?"

"There's someone," he admitted, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say there was no one, but that would have been unfair to Jack. He also didn't want Lisa to think he was living a sad, lonely existence back in Cardiff, pining away for her. "It's still fairly new though."

Lisa's perfectly manicured eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise. "That's good then. I'd hoped you'd find someone new. Is it serious?"

Ianto hesitated, biting down on his lower lip as he struggled to decide on an answer. "Um, yeah," he replied, but then wondered if that was actually true. He'd thought he had a better grasp on where he stood with Jack, but after the last few hours, it all seemed so uncertain and tenuous again. "I think so. At least it is for me."

Lisa gave him a half-hearted smile. "Well, whoever she is, she's a lucky girl."

Ianto wasn't sure if he'd quite managed to hide the incredulity from his features. "Um... thanks."

A part of him wanted to correct her use of the inaccurate pronoun, but the last thing he wanted was to become the hottest topic on Torchwood One's rumour mill. He inwardly shuddered as he imagined his former colleagues gossiping about how his breakup with Lisa had caused him to run away to Cardiff and go bender.

Lisa obviously picked up on his disbelief. "Ianto, just because things didn't work out for us, it doesn't mean I don't know how happy you'll make someone." She sighed and looked at him with sadness in her eyes. "You were my best friend. I could talk to you about anything. I miss that... I miss being able to talk to you."

Ianto simply nodded in reply, his pride not allowing for anything more effusive. He wasn't unaffected by her words, but he refused to feel guilty about not being there for her to talk to.

Although he'd never been someone who talked about himself, his past, or his feelings, he and Lisa had spent a lot of their time together simply talking about anything and everything. She'd been both his girlfriend and his best friend. Even though he'd usually been more of a listener than a talker, he'd enjoyed that part of their relationship. While Jack had now filled the void in his life that losing Lisa had created, it was different... perhaps in part because they were both men, perhaps because of their guarded, introspective natures, or perhaps it was because of Jack's intimidatingly long past and incumbent mountain of emotional baggage. He'd always felt like he'd known where he stood with Lisa, even if, in hindsight, that hadn't actually been the case. Whereas with Jack, nothing seemed simple or clearly defined.

He felt justified in being upset that he'd had to hear about Jack's association with the Doctor from Yvonne Hartman, but he suddenly realised there was at least a degree of hypocrisy clouding his emotions. He could hardly blame Jack for being secretive about his past when he himself was similarly uncommunicative.

"I always felt bad about what happened," Lisa continued, beginning to reach across the table to touch his hand but then drawing back. "I'm sorry about..."

"Don't, Lisa," Ianto said firmly, cutting her off. "Please, don't. What we had was good... but you were right, it wouldn't have worked in the long-run." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Everything turned out for the best."

"Yes, you're right," Lisa agreed quickly. "I'm just sorry I hurt you."

"I know," Ianto replied softly, lowering his eyes and swallowing a mouthful of his coffee.

"So, what's he like?" Lisa asked a moment later, her voice taking on a lighter tone. Ianto looked up to see her gazing at him curiously. "Captain Harkness? I've only seen him once but he's gorgeous."

Ianto huffed out a half-laugh. "Well, he seems to think so."

"But you don't?" Lisa asked, her eyes widening incredulously.

"I suppose he's a decent enough looking bloke," Ianto replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"You're jealous!" Lisa teased.

"I'm not!" Ianto protested, rolling his eyes as Lisa grinned at him. "Actually, he's a right pain in the arse, and he's very demanding. It's practically a full-time job just keeping him supplied with coffee." Feeling a little guilty for painting Jack in such a negative light, he added, "But he's a good boss and he knows what he's doing."

Lisa smiled knowingly. "I bet you had him addicted to your coffee on the first day. You've probably got him wrapped around your little finger by now."

Ianto smirked. "Maybe just a bit," he said, taking another sip of his coffee.

"It's lucky you're not gay." Lisa's features took on a thoughtful expression. "Otherwise, he'd probably be all over you."

Ianto spluttered and almost choked on his coffee, making a sound that was somewhere between a derisive snort and a hysterical laugh. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Lucky about that. Doubt I'm his type though."

Lisa shrugged and hummed non-committally. "Are the rumours about him true? That he'll shag anything if it's gorgeous enough?"

"Dunno," Ianto replied, feeling heat rise to his face and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. "It's not like we go out on the pull together, Lisa. He's just my boss. Anyway, you can't believe all the rumours around this place."

"I suppose not," Lisa agreed, not looking particularly convinced.

Feeling desperate to escape before Lisa asked him any further questions, he quickly gulped down the remainder of his coffee, then gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but I really need to get some work done. It's been good seeing you again though."

Lisa sighed. "Yeah, I should get back too." She stood up as Ianto did the same. "Take care of yourself, Ianto," she said, touching his arm and smiling warmly.

"You too." Ianto smiled back and reached down to collect his case from beside the chair. "Bye, Lisa."

"Bye, Ianto."

With one final look at the woman he'd once loved, Ianto quickly turned and walked away.

###

It was just after ten o'clock the following evening when the train pulled in at Cardiff Central station. With his overnight bag and laptop case both slung over his shoulder, and a suit carrier bag folded over his arm, Ianto disembarked and wearily headed for the nearby taxi rank.

The rest of his time at Torchwood One had been blessedly uneventful. He'd worked steadily and made progress with identifying a number of the previously unknown artefacts. He'd chatted briefly with a few of his former colleagues, and to his immense relief, he hadn't seen Yvonne Hartman or Lisa again.

He'd also spoken with one of Torchwood's head researchers, Dr. Rajesh Singh, about his Rift prediction idea. Rajesh had been one of several Torchwood staff involved in giving the new recruits basic psychic training, and he'd always been friendly and amiable. The man had seemed delighted to see Ianto again, and while he'd approved of Ianto's idea, he'd agreed that it would be difficult to implement successfully. He'd mentioned a young Japanese woman he'd once met, a gifted mathematician and a genius with technology apparently, and who Torchwood had been looking at recruiting. Unfortunately, she'd been caught stealing government secrets and had been subsequently incarcerated for treason in UNIT's prison facility. Nonetheless, Ianto had noted her name so he could find out more about her.

Jack had phoned him the previous night, asking about the meeting with Hartman, and confirming that his transfer was official. Feeling upset and frustrated by Jack's apparent lack of trust in him, he'd been unable to stop himself from being a little brusque with the older man. When Jack had asked him if anything was wrong, he'd tried to cover his taciturn demeanour with the excuse that he was tired and hadn't slept well the night before. He hadn't said anything about the Doctor, and he hadn't mentioned his encounter with Lisa. He respected Jack's privacy, and if Jack didn't truly trust him, there was nothing he could do to change that. It hurt though, and more than he was willing to admit.

After the arduous time in London, he simply wanted to go home, take a long, soak in a hot bath, indulge in a drink or two, and enjoy the comfort of his own bed. First, however, he needed to stop in at the Hub, check on Myfanwy, and report in with Jack.

He climbed into the next available taxi, asked the driver to take him to Roald Dahl Plass, and sank back into the worn leather seat. It felt good to be back in Cardiff and he was looking forward to seeing Jack again. He'd missed the other man, even though he'd been away for only a little over forty-eight hours.

The taxi pulled up at the edge of the Plass a few minutes later. He paid and thanked the driver, climbed out, and closed the door firmly behind him. After waiting until the car had driven away, he stepped onto the invisible lift, deciding the walk to the tourist office entrance required more energy than he was presently willing to expend. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the cool night air as he gazed across at the brightly illuminated Millennium Centre.

The lift began its descent and Jack was strolling towards him before it had reached the bottom. Ianto barely had time to put down his bags before he was pulled into Jack's arms and engulfed in a tight embrace. He stiffened involuntarily for just a moment, but then relaxed into Jack's arms and wrapped his own around the other man, hugging him back. Jack's hands moved up to cradle his face, and he captured Ianto's mouth in an insistent but surprisingly tender kiss.

Pulling back, Jack frowned. "I thought you were going to let me know when you were arriving so I could pick you up at the station?"

Ianto shrugged, ignoring Jack's slightly accusatory tone. "It was easier just to take a taxi."

"I didn't mind coming to pick you up, you know," Jack argued, still frowning at him.

"I know," Ianto agreed, smiling weakly. "Doesn't matter, I'm here now."

Jack looked at him searchingly for a moment, Ianto holding his gaze. Then Jack nodded, his expression clearing as his mouth spread into a wide, cheeky grin. "So, did you miss me?"

Under normal circumstances Ianto wouldn't have been able to resist teasing Jack in return. He probably would have rolled his eyes and feigned indifference while attempting to keep a straight-face, finally acquiescing when Jack acted crestfallen and unleashed his trademark pout. But he wasn't in the mood, and as good as it was to see Jack, his feelings of disquiet and disillusionment remained. After everything they'd been through together, the idea that Jack didn't actually trust him strung deeply.

Instead, he lowered his eyes and replied quietly, "Yeah... yeah, I did."

"I missed you too," Jack said, his voice equally soft and sincere, almost as if he was afraid of the words.

"You missed my coffee you mean," Ianto retorted, only half-joking.

"Well, I missed that too, of course." Jack chuckled, then became serious again. "But, no, that's not what I mean. It's not the same here without you."

"It's good to be home again," Ianto acknowledged as they looked into each other's eyes. Then he averted his gaze and glanced quickly around the Hub, looking for any sign or mess or disorder, but it appeared to be just as he'd left it. "Everything all right here?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, everything's fine. You don't have to worry. Me and Myfanwy have been on our best behaviour."

Ianto found that a little difficult to believe, but he didn't attempt a sardonic rejoinder. "I just want to check on her and then I'll head home." He picked up his bags again and carried them over to the cogwheel door. "I'll make you some coffee before I go if you like?"

Jack followed behind him. "Actually, I was hoping you might like some company tonight?" he asked, his tone casual.

Ianto didn't miss the underlying trace of hopefulness in Jack's voice. He put down his bags and slowly turned to face Jack again, clamping down guiltily on the unprecedented flicker of irritation he felt from Jack's request. As much as he liked spending time with Jack at the apartment, and had told him he was welcome there any time, for once he would have preferred to spend the night alone. But in addition to his time away they'd also had precious little time together in the few days leading up to his departure, and he could never willingly deny Jack companionship. "Oh, er... okay," he replied, stumbling awkwardly over his words.

"You're sure?" Jack asked, looking at him uncertainly. "If you're too tired..."

"Yup, I'm sure, Jack," Ianto confirmed, forcing aside his reticence.

"Great, just give me a minute," Jack said as he turned and hurried back up the stairs and into his office.

Ianto sighed and made his way across to the opposite side of the Hub, where he found Myfanwy sleeping soundly, curled up in her nest. He smiled at the sight and idly hoped Jack hadn't been feeding her too much chocolate.

He returned to the cogwheel door where Jack was waiting for him, his greatcoat already pulled on, and Ianto's bags slung over his shoulder.

Jack handed him his suit bag and grinned. "Let's get you home then, Mr. Jones."


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I'd hoped to post it a couple of days ago but things didn't quite go to plan. Hopefully the length makes up for that as it ended up quite a bit longer than I expected. Thank you so much for the reviews and support, and special thanks to Prothrombintime for so graciously providing feedback, inspiration and encouragement. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Five**

_**October 30th, 2004**_

"You're very quiet this evening," Jack stated as he reached for another slice of pizza and proceeded to devour it with his usual exuberance.

Ianto swallowed his mouthful of food and briefly eyed the single remaining slice before deciding to leave it for the other man. He hadn't been particularly hungry anyway, and it had only been at Jack's insistence that they'd stopped by Jubilee Pizza before collecting Ianto's car and driving to the apartment.

Removing the napkin tucked into his collar, he wiped his mouth and fingers, then scrunched it up and dropped it onto his plate on the coffee table. Barely suppressing a weary sigh, he picked up his bottle of beer and downed the rest of it in several hasty gulps, wishing it was something substantially stronger.

He glanced sideways at Jack and noted the look of curiosity mixed with concern, but chose to ignore it. "I'm always quiet."

The leering grin that spread across Jack's face clearly indicated what was going through the man's mind. "Well, not always."

"No, I suppose not," Ianto agreed, not giving into the innuendo-laced tone as he stood up and waved his empty bottle. "Want another one?"

Jack shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

Ianto wandered over to the refrigerator, retrieved another bottle, deftly popped the top, then returned to the sofa where Jack was looking longingly at the remaining slice of pizza. Despite himself, he felt a fond smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Go ahead, Jack. I'm full."

"Sure?" Jack's hand was already reaching towards the pizza box.

Ianto slumped back down onto the sofa and rested his head on the cushions. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a generous mouthful. "Yup."

Settling the bottle on his knee, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift as he listened to Jack noisily eating. A few moments later he felt Jack's hand rest on his thigh and squeeze gently. To his horror he had to resist the involuntary urge to recoil from the sudden contact, and he almost laughed inanely as he hoped Jack had remembered to wipe his fingers first.

"Feel like telling me what's wrong?" Jack asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Ianto opened his eyes and patted Jack's hand. He turned his head to the side and forced himself to meet Jack's disbelieving gaze. "Just a bit more tired from the trip than I thought, that's all."

Jack made a non-committal noise in response. "Ianto, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Ianto nodded, resisting the urge to cringe. He stared intently at his beer bottle before raising it to his lips again. "I know."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it didn't particularly feel like the truth either, at least not at the moment. But he didn't know what else to say, and an awkward silence settled between them.

"I thought you'd be happy," Jack said, his voice low and uncertain. When Ianto looked at him blankly, he added, "About making your transfer permanent. I know we probably should have talked about it first, but I thought... well, I hoped it was what you wanted."

"It is, Jack," Ianto said insistently, feeling a twinge of guilt, then quickly admonishing himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about. "Really. It was a relief when I found out... knowing Hartman can't recall me back to London. Thank you."

"I wouldn't have let that happen," Jack said firmly, then a gentle smile crept across his lips. "So, officially, you're second in command now."

"Hmm. Not like I had any competition for the job though, is it?" Ianto retorted, but with relatively good humour.

"True," Jack agreed, chuckling softly. Then his expression became serious again. "But there's no one else I would have trusted. It's good to know that if anything happens, Torchwood Three will be in safe hands."

Just two days earlier, Ianto would have been elated to hear Jack's declaration. Instead, he had to force himself not to scoff with disbelief. It was on the tip of his tongue to challenge Jack's words, to demand to know why Jack hadn't told him about knowing the Doctor, but there was something unreadable in the man's features that held him back. There seemed to be some inner conflict going on that Ianto clearly wasn't privy to, and it caused a stab of anxiety to shoot through him. "There's, um... is there something I should know about, Jack?"

"No. Everything's fine," Jack replied, a little too hastily. He smiled disarmingly and patted Ianto's knee. "You're stuck with me, Ianto Jones. To my way of thinking that makes you a very lucky man."

Clearly, whatever Jack was thinking about, he had no intention of sharing it. Forcing aside his frustration, Ianto rolled his eyes and managed a brief but cheeky grin. "Well, I suppose there are worse things."

Jack laughed. "Come here," he said, reaching his hand around the back of Ianto's neck and pulling him into an gentle, unhurried kiss. Ianto did his best to return it, and although it was very enjoyable, as kissing Jack always was, he couldn't seem to properly relax.

"Whoa, you're really tense," Jack exclaimed as he pulled back, stroking his fingers along the base of Ianto's neck, just beneath his open shirt collar. "I think we need to do something about that."

To Ianto's surprise, Jack suddenly jumped up and headed for the bedroom, returning a moment later with two of the pillows from the bed. After haphazardly pushing the coffee table aside and waving away Ianto's muttered protests, he dropped the pillows onto the carpet in front of where he'd been sitting, then plonked himself down, resting his back against the front of the sofa.

Looking up at Ianto, he patted the pillow in front of him between his legs. "Come and sit here in front of me."

"Jack..." Ianto said warily, not in the mood for Jack's frivolities.

"Come on. I won't bite. I'm just going to give you a shoulder massage. You'll like it, I promise." Jack grinned as he waggled his fingers teasingly at him.

Ianto sighed softly, knowing it was pointless to resist. Quickly gulping down the rest of his beer, he stood up, instinctively straightened the coffee table and put down the empty bottle, then lowered himself to sit in front of the other man. He stretched out his legs, then folded them in a bit until he was comfortable. Jack's lips pressed lightly against his neck before strong hands settled on his shoulders and began to knead gently at the tense muscles.

Ianto lowered his head, an involuntary groan of pleasure escaping from his lips as Jack's talented hands began to work their magic. It was a wholly new experience for him, and he found himself relishing it immensely. Although he'd given Lisa the occasional foot rub when they'd been together, she'd never seemed inclined to return the favour in any shape or form.

"Good?" Jack's voice murmured seductively in his ear.

"Mmm," Ianto replied as Jack's thumbs pressed more firmly against the tightness at the nape of his neck. "Very good."

Jack's hands shifted to Ianto's front and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's get rid of this," he murmured as he pulled the shirt away from Ianto's trousers and eased it off his shoulders, dropping it onto the floor beside them.

There was a further rustle of movement, and Jack's blue button-up shirt and white undershirt were added to the pile. Ianto reclined against the warmth of Jack's bare chest as the other man pressed a series of kisses along his neck and shoulders, his hands trailing lightly down the length of Ianto's torso.

Feeling his body begin to respond, and relieved that his earlier reticence had passed, Ianto inhaled deeply, drawing in Jack's scent. His eyes drifted closed, and Jack nudged him forward again, resuming work on his shoulders. Without the impediment of his shirt the experience immediately became more sensual and intense, and he groaned again as Jack worked at the tight knots just below his shoulder blades.

Keeping his memories of the last two days pushed to the back of his mind, Ianto began to relax under Jack's adept, persistent ministrations. Focusing on the feel of Jack's hands pressing into his flesh, his thoughts drifted into a welcome, indistinct blur, and it wasn't very long before he was almost purring with contentment. Jack murmured approvingly and wrapped his arms around Ianto's chest, pulling him close. His eyes still closed, Ianto leaned his head back against Jack's shoulder and was rewarded with a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jack's hands moved downwards and Ianto's eyes shot open as the insistent fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and began unfastening his trousers. "Jack," he protested, beginning to pull away. "I'm not really in the mood..."

"Shhh," Jack whispered, one hand over Ianto's crotch while the other stroked his stomach. "It'll help you to relax. You're always taking such good care of me. Let me take care of you for a change."

Ianto hesitated, knowing it probably wasn't wise to continue, but realising his body had other ideas entirely. He'd missed Jack's touch too much to deny himself. With a tremulous sigh, he rested back against the other man. "Okay."

Jack finished unzipping Ianto's trousers and he obligingly lifted his hips, allowing Jack to push the garment out of the way. His eyes fluttered closed as Jack's hand slid beneath his underwear and began gently fondling him. Already aroused and semi-erect, he responded rapidly to the exploratory touch, moaning appreciatively when Jack pushed his underwear down and began stroking him properly, albeit with almost tortuous slowness.

"I take it you don't want me to stop then?" Jack asked, chuckling softly in his ear, his other arm wrapping around Ianto's chest and holding him close.

Ianto moaned again as Jack's thumb teased his right nipple, the languid movements of Jack's other hand not faltering in their long, sensuous strokes. "I'll have you on decaf for a week and reinstate your diet if you do," he murmured.

Jack mock gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

"Are you sure about that, sir?" Ianto asked wryly, a free and genuine smile forming on his lips for the first time since his return.

"Hmm, maybe not." Jack pressed tender kisses to Ianto's neck and shoulder. "But I have no intention of stopping so I guess we'll never know."

"Probably for the best," Ianto agreed, whimpering needfully as Jack gave a gentle tug while sucking on the sensitive skin just below his ear.

With his eyes still closed, he drifted into a euphoric haze as pleasure suffused his body. Time seemed to shift and stretch as Jack continued to tenderly stroke, caress and kiss him. It still astonished him that, despite Jack's bravado and often cavalier nature, he could be so gentle and attentive. He found himself trying to prolong the experience, wanting to stay in that moment with the two of them in the here and now, where nothing else mattered. It was a wonderfully seductive delusion and he was in no hurry for it to end.

With a shudder and a soft gasp he finally climaxed, throbbing in Jack's hand as his hot release splattered over his warm flesh. "You're so beautiful, Ianto," he heard Jack murmur, continuing to stroke him until he was completely spent. Jack's mouth moved along his jawline and he tilted his head upwards, their lips meeting in a deep, lingering kiss.

"Okay?" Jack whispered, kissing his cheek, then resting his chin on Ianto's shoulder.

"Yeah," Ianto murmured drowsily. "Um, do you want me to..."

"I'm fine," Jack said softly. "Just relax, okay?"

Ianto nodded in reply, feeling more relaxed than he would have thought possible under the circumstances. As always, the rush of post-coital endorphins and Jack's intoxicating presence proved to be a potent and overwhelming combination. He was vaguely aware of the soft cotton of Jack's t-shirt wiping him clean, then being tucked back into his underwear and trousers. Jack's arms wrapped around him, and he simply curled up against the other man, not yet ready for reality to intrude once again.

Warm lips brushed lightly against his forehead, and without a further conscious thought, he drifted to sleep.

###

Ianto woke in near darkness, a bleary glance at the bedside clock revealing the time to be just after four in the morning. Rubbing at his eyes and feeling mildly disoriented, he found he had no clear recollection of how he'd ended up naked and tucked under the covers of his bed, with a lightly snoring Jack curled up beside him. Concluding that he'd been more tired than he'd thought, he was both touched and mortified to realise what must have happened after he dozed off in Jack's arms.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he studied the other man's relaxed features, cast in dark shadows in the dim light. Jack looked so peaceful in slumber, and even more breathtakingly handsome, if that was possible. He spent several minutes simply watching Jack sleep, his mind running the gamut of his confused, conflicted emotions.

Jack's eyes moved behind his eyelids and he tried to imagine what Jack might possibly dream about... the things he'd seen... the lives he'd lived... the people he'd loved. He wondered if Jack ever dreamt about him... if he ever dreamt of a different life for the two of them.

He loved Jack, differently and more intensely than he'd loved Lisa, and he'd loved her deeply. Seeing Lisa again had only confirmed where his heart now belonged, and he could no longer deny that he was in love with this captivating, astonishing, unfathomable man. Jack was a part of him now, a profound and fundamental part, and he couldn't imagine that ever changing, or wanting it to ever change.

The fact that Jack was a man didn't even register any longer. He didn't care about that, although he was aware that he had yet to face the ramifications of being in a same-sex relationship in the real world. He wondered if that might change eventually, given that things were different now. If Yvonne Hartman found out about them, she would likely disapprove and be suspicious, but there was nothing she could actually do about it.

Unlike Jack, Lisa had been easy to love, and he'd been able to imagine a future with her. They were almost the same age, Lisa just one year older, both with a similar amount of life experience, and they could have grown old together. Whereas Jack had already lived the equivalent of two entire lifetimes before Ianto had met him. Jack didn't age, it was possible he'd never grow old, whereas Ianto grew a little older every day. If they stayed together long enough, he'd eventually look older than Jack, and Jack would probably abandon him at some point, leaving him to grow old alone. Assuming Torchwood didn't kill him first, of course.

He knew he'd never have a normal life with Jack, and although being with Jack was worth the sacrifice, he wasn't sure if he could live with the relentless uncertainty. Eventually he'd need Jack's love and trust in return, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever receive them. He didn't know if he'd ever feel truly secure about his place in Jack's life. Jack could live for hundreds or thousands of years, or even more – for all they knew, Jack could be truly immortal and destined to live forever. He could devote his lifetime to Jack, whereas for Jack, he'd be little more than a blink of the eye. A thousand years from now, Jack might not even remember him. The inescapable reality was that he'd never hold the significance in Jack's life that Jack would hold in his.

Amidst all his myriad doubts and insecurities, he thought about the previous evening and how Jack had cared for him in a way no one else ever had before. It had been unexpected and it had touched him deeply, even more so that Jack hadn't asked for, or seemed to want anything in return. As much as he enjoyed looking after Jack, and he did it without any expectations, it was nice to know it wasn't one-sided.

They needed each other, of that at least he was certain, and while Jack was still a stranger to him in many ways, it seemed pointless to dwell on how little he actually knew about the other man. He was still hurt by Jack's choice not to confide in him about the Doctor, and he didn't think he was willing to let that go, but he wasn't sure how to broach the subject either. Besides, he wasn't naïve enough to think it would be the last time some part of Jack's past was revealed in a startling and disconcerting manner. Jack's formidable past might always be largely unknown to him, and he wondered if perhaps it was better that way. Trust went both ways, and maybe he needed to trust that Jack had his reasons for not telling him about his past. Perhaps the pain of countless losses forced Jack to bury his memories in order to retain his sanity. And perhaps someday he'd just be one more of Jack's distant, repressed memories; merely a dim recollection in a rolling sea of pain and despair. It was a sobering and disheartening thought.

Leaning down and brushing a feather-light kiss to Jack's bare shoulder, he carefully slid out from under the bed covers. After managing to silently retrieve a pair of pyjama bottoms, he pulled them on and padded out of the room. Filling a glass from the kitchen tap, he gulped down the water and retreated to the sofa, still lost in his dysphoric ruminations.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there in the semi-darkened room when he heard movement from the bedroom and Jack wandered out, yawning widely and clad only in a pair of Ianto's tracksuit bottoms. Although he'd recently established a collection of casual clothes for Jack to wear when spending time at the apartment, the older man invariably chose to appropriate some of Ianto's clothing from time to time. He suspected it was some odd fetish of Jack's, but he didn't really mind. It was almost endearing in a strange kind of way.

Jack collapsed next to him on the sofa and placed a warm hand on his back, rubbing gently. "You okay?" he asked, peering at him blearily.

Ianto nodded and leaned into Jack, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks for, uh... for getting me to bed last night."

Jack kissed his cheek. "You were exhausted. By the way, you're heavier than you look." He chuckled softly. "Maybe I should be putting you on a diet."

"Are you calling me fat?" Ianto demanded indignantly, knowing Jack was just teasing him, but pulling back and glaring at him anyway.

Jack just laughed and rubbed Ianto's stomach playfully. "Not fat... just... cuddly." He grinned mischievously. "I like cuddly."

Ianto huffed and Jack just laughed again, pulling him into a leisurely kiss and effectively blocking off any retort he might have otherwise unleashed. "I could still put you on decaf you know," he murmured petulantly, pressing his face against the firm flesh of Jack's chest.

"Then you'd have to deal with a caffeine deprived Captain," Jack declared smugly. "Sure you can handle that?

"Heaven forbid," Ianto muttered, causing Jack to chuckle again. With their arms wrapped around each other, they sat in silence for a minute or two, the room eerily quiet except for the steady sounds of their breathing.

"I saw Lisa while I was in London," Ianto blurted out suddenly, the words spilling from his mouth before he'd consciously thought about it.

"I wondered if you had," Jack said quietly. "How did that go?"

Ianto pulled back and rubbed his hand over his face, scratching distractedly at the stubbled skin. "It was awkward," he replied, not meeting Jack's eyes. "Could have been worse though. She apologised for hurting me. I told her I'd moved on, that there was someone else now. She seemed a bit surprised." He shrugged his shoulders. "But I think she was happy for me."

"Well, that's good. She could hardly expect you not to move on with your life." Jack paused, causing Ianto to look up at him. "Did you tell her about me?" he asked curiously.

Ianto shook his head. "I wanted to, but I couldn't risk anything getting back to Hartman. Lisa's a bit of a gossip." He searched Jack's eyes, wondering if he was disappointed, although they'd both understood the need for secrecy. "Sorry," he added.

"It's fine." Jack wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders and pulled him close again. "I bet the look on her face would have been priceless though."

Ianto half-laughed. "Hmm. I would have liked to see that too."

"Do you still love her?" Jack asked, his voice uncharacteristically tentative.

"No," Ianto replied, surprised by the sudden and unexpected question. "At least not the way I did. It was weird... to see her again and not have those feelings anymore. It was a relief but it was sad too. She was the first person I'd ever truly loved."

Jack nodded. "It's never easy to let go and move on."

There was a sorrowful wistfulness in Jack's voice and Ianto wondered how many people Jack had left behind in his long life... how many hearts he may have broken along the way. He tried not to think that someday he'd likely become one of them. "No, I don't suppose it is," he agreed. "But maybe some things just aren't meant to be."

Jack reached for his hand and grasped it tightly. "I hate that she hurt you, but her breaking up with you helped bring you to me. I can't help but feel grateful to her for that. I know that's selfish..."

"No, it's not." Ianto squeezed Jack's hand. "I'm grateful to her as well. Me and Lisa wouldn't have worked out in the long run. I know that now."

"So, you're really okay?" Jack asked, looking at him earnestly.

"I'm fine," Ianto assured him.

Jack leaned in closer and kissed him softly, a warm smile gracing his lips as he pulled away. "Feel like coming back to bed with me for a while?"

Ianto nodded, smiling in return and allowing Jack to tug him to his feet. Hand-in-hand, they retreated to the bedroom and Ianto was soon asleep in Jack's arms once more.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Notes:** I'm actually posting on schedule for a change! Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for feedback, suggestions and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Six**

_**November 12th, 2004**_

Ianto jumped with a start as a deafening rumble shook the SUV. He watched in horror as the building he'd been observing exploded dramatically, sending clouds of debris and dust billowing out into the night air in all directions. He tapped at his earpiece as he leapt out of the vehicle. "Jack!" he shouted frantically, hearing only crackling static in reply. "Jack!"

At the far end of the decimated two-storey building, an engine roared to life and a red sports car began to speed away from the scene. Ianto ran forward, aiming his gun, but the vehicle turned and disappeared into the night before he could take a clear shot. It had been a trap all along, he realised belatedly. Jack had been tracking the pair of drug dealing aliens, colloquially known as blowfish due to their appearance, for the past week. They'd obviously lured them to the deserted industrial building, having previously rigged it with explosives in readiness. It occurred to him that they could have employed far easier means to eliminate Jack. However, from what he'd read about the bipedal, humanoid, fish-like creatures, combined with what he'd seen first-hand of their hideous, flamboyant dress-sense, they had a penchant for the ostentatious and dramatic.

Cursing under his breath, he turned back to the SUV, grabbed a torch from one of the supply cases in the boot, and headed towards the building. He began making his way through the wreckage, waving the strong beam of light back and forward, and coughing harshly as the dust-filled air reached his lungs. His heart was racing, and he was dimly aware of the foolishness of entering the devastated structure. He knew the fragmented remains of the ceiling could crumble down upon him at any moment, but his only thought was of finding Jack.

"Jack!" he called desperately, stumbling over a broken concrete support beam and almost losing his balance. "Jack!"

His progress through the rubble was tortuously slow, his anxiety increasing with each passing moment. He continued calling Jack's name as he endeavoured to search the ruins in an orderly manner, worried that he might miss finding the other man if he was unconscious... or worse. He resolutely pushed aside that disturbing thought. Rationally, he knew Jack would be all right no matter how badly injured, but he hated the idea of Jack dying and being painfully dragged back into life again. He hated the thought of Jack being in any pain whatsoever, physical or emotional. They didn't know how Jack's condition actually worked, and it was his ongoing fear that whatever mysterious force imbued Jack with the ability to cheat death might eventually run out.

He'd almost reached the furthest side of the building when he spotted a flicker of movement a half dozen yards to his right. Focusing his torch on the area, he saw a hand poking out from under a large pile of jagged debris, clawing ineffectually at the ground. A low groan of pain reached his ears, and he scrambled forward, a rush of intense relief washing over him. "Oh, thank God," he murmured.

He reached the other man and kneeled down, carefully shining the torch towards where Jack's face was peering out through the rubble, his features contorted in pain. "Jack! Are you all right?" he asked worriedly, glancing around and trying to assess the extent of Jack's injuries.

"Ianto," Jack gasped, groaning again as he tried to shift forward. "Yeah, but I'm pinned down. Can't move."

Ianto touched Jack's hand tentatively and was relieved when the other man grasped it, squeezing firmly. "Right. Hold on. I'm going to get you out."

After quickly surveying the mountain of rubble he needed to deal with, he put the torch down and angled it to illuminate the area, then set to work. He managed to get the smaller pieces of debris cleared without too much difficulty, although it was a tedious, strenuous task.

"Almost there," he finally muttered, wiping a filthy hand across his sweat-soaked brow as he looked down sceptically at the slab of concrete lying across Jack's back. There was an ominous creaking sound from somewhere above them. He froze, a surge of fear tearing through him.

"Ianto, you need to get out of here," Jack shouted, his words coming out in a breathless stutter punctuated by low, anguished groans. "The rest of the building could collapse at any second."

"No, I'm not leaving you," Ianto shouted back determinedly. He grabbed a corner of the concrete slab with both hands, took a deep breath, and braced himself. Summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, he managed to lift it slightly, grunting with exertion. "Can you pull yourself out?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jack replied, slowly beginning to inch forward, but faltering several times and crying out in pain.

Trying to ignore his own pain from his stretched and protesting muscles, Ianto took another deep breath and heaved the slab a little higher until Jack finally managed to pull himself free. Letting go of the slab and ignoring the resulting loud crash, he moved to Jack's side and carefully helped him to his feet. "You okay?" he asked again, looking at Jack's dirt, sweat and blood smeared face.

"My shoulder. I think it's dislocated," Jack muttered, wincing as he slowly straightened up and breathing in short, stuttering gasps. "Damn. A few broken ribs too. I'm gonna need you to pop my shoulder back into place." He grimaced as he tentatively nursed his useless arm close against his body, then glanced around before his eyes rested on Ianto's again. "We'd better get out of here first though."

"Yup," Ianto agreed, retrieving the torch and moving to Jack's right-hand side. Jack wrapped his good arm around Ianto's shoulders for support, and Ianto put his arm cautiously around Jack's waist as the other man leaned heavily against him.

"Careful," he warned as they began to move, cringing in sympathy as the other man slipped slightly and gasped in pain. "Take it slowly and watch your step."

They made their way as steadily as they could out of the building, following Ianto's previous path to avoid any unsurpassable obstacles, Jack clinging to Ianto the entire time. Stumbling through the rubble, they finally cleared the perimeter of the ruins and reached the SUV. Ianto looked at Jack worriedly as he slumped against the side of the vehicle, panting from exertion and clearly in excruciating pain.

Jack glanced down at his immobilised shoulder. "Brace yourself and give my arm a good hard yank to the side," he said, looking up to meet Ianto's gaze.

"You sure?" Ianto asked, peering at Jack doubtfully, but willing to do whatever was necessary to alleviate the other man's suffering.

"Yeah." Jack huffed, looking vaguely offended, and Ianto had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the display of male bravado.

"Okay. Um, take a deep breath." Ianto gripped Jack's damaged arm, and with a final anxious glance into the other man's eyes, he pulled firmly, causing Jack to cry out in pain. Fearing he'd done something wrong, he was relieved to realise Jack's shoulder had slipped back into its socket.

"Thanks," Jack muttered, his features clearing, the pain he'd been experiencing evidently beginning to dissipate. "Thanks for the rescue too."

Ianto nodded, giving him a tremulous smile. "Any time."

He was thankful he'd been allowed to accompany the older man on the stakeout of the seedy nightclub that evening. It was there that they'd spotted the two elusive blowfish making a drug deal at the back entrance, then followed the aliens eight miles north of the city centre to the run-down industrial estate. Jack had spent every evening alone for the past week, staking out various nightclubs around Cardiff, and Ianto had decided the Captain needed some company. His motives hadn't been entirely selfless, and he'd been inordinately pleased when Jack had given little more than a token objection.

Jack produced a cheeky grin. "I'd love to kiss you right now, but you're kind of dirty. Not that it isn't a hot look on you." His grin turned lecherous. "Gotta admit though, I prefer my usual method of getting you all messy and dishevelled."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "You're hardly the epitome of cleanliness yourself, sir."

Jack chuckled and pulled Ianto in close against his chest, his hand stroking gently over the back of Ianto's head. Ianto went willingly into Jack's arms, but kept his reciprocating embrace loose out of fear of hurting the other man.

When they'd pulled apart, Ianto went around to the passenger side door and retrieved a packet of wet wipes and a small bin bag from the glove box. Returning to Jack's side, he handed him several of the wipes, then took some for himself, proceeding to remove the worst of the dirt and sweat from his face, neck and hands.

"Best we can do for the moment," he said, dusting himself off and frowning dejectedly as he noticed the jagged tear in the sleeve of his suit jacket. He was just thankful it wasn't one of his favourite or more expensive suits. Unfortunately, Jack's greatcoat was looking similarly battered and the worse for wear too. He was grateful that this particular coat was one of the spares he'd acquired from an army surplus store and not the original, which was currently at the cleaners. "Next time you take me on a stakeout," he muttered. "Remind me to change out of my suit first."

Jack smiled at him fondly. "Don't worry about it. I'll buy you a new one."

Ianto tried not to cringe at the idea of going suit shopping with Jack, suspecting he'd suffer more than a slight loss of dignity before the ordeal was over. He dropped their used wipes into the bin bag and neatly knotted the top. "Are your ribs all right?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. They've already started healing." Jack glanced over to the destroyed building and sighed wearily. "I take it our pair of blowfish got away?"

Ianto nodded. "They left in their sports car just as the building exploded."

"Damn," Jack muttered. "Well, looks like we're back to square one again."

"Er... not quite." Ianto looked at Jack sheepishly, hoping the older man wouldn't be too angry that he'd disobeyed his orders about remaining inside in the SUV. He tried not to think that if it wasn't for Jack's overprotective streak, he would have gone into the building with him to help apprehend the blowfish and quite possibly not have survived the experience.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Ianto took a deep breath. "I, um... just after you followed them into the building... well, I sneaked out and put a tracker on their car." He shrugged his shoulders. "In case they managed to escape. As long as they don't abandon it too soon, we should be able to find them."

Jack frowned. "So, you disobeyed my orders?"

"Just a tiny bit," Ianto argued, knowing he was on somewhat perilous ground. "It wasn't dangerous."

Jack continued scowling at him for a moment, then his face broke into a broad grin. He grabbed Ianto's now relatively clean face in both hands and kissed him fiercely. Ianto was momentarily stunned, but then returned the kiss enthusiastically.

"Nice work, Ianto," Jack exclaimed, looking at him with obvious pride. He pulled open the driver's side door, pausing and glancing back with a determined set to his jaw. "Okay. Let's get out of here and find those fish-faced bastards."

Jack jumped into the SUV, Ianto dashing around and climbing into the passenger seat beside him. He immediately accessed the SUV's systems and began working to pinpoint the location of their rogue aliens. With a roar of the engine, Jack steered them away from the ruins of the building and onto the road back to Cardiff.

###

Finding their quarry proved easier than Ianto had expected. They'd tracked the stolen sports car to a cash point west of the city centre, arriving just in time to see the two blowfish jump back into their car and speed off again. The pursuit lead them into Grangetown, with Ianto fearing for his life – a not uncommon experience when Jack was at the wheel and in a hurry – as they raced down a long residential street in chase of the misappropriated sports car.

"Hold on!" Jack shouted as he swerved around a corner, the SUV only barely remaining on all four wheels, and Ianto having to resist the urge to close his eyes.

Once they were travelling on a straight path again, Jack lowered the window and reached for his Webley. "Ianto, hold the wheel."

"What?" Ianto asked in confusion, tearing his eyes away from the road and looking over to Jack, who had unfastened his seatbelt and was starting to climb out the window. "Oh, no. You can't be serious!"

"Hold the wheel!" Jack reiterated, clearly not willing to take no for an answer. "I'm not letting them get away this time."

Ianto sighed and shook his head reproachfully, but he shuffled over far enough until he had a firm grip on the steering wheel. "Right, got it. But hurry up, and don't bloody well miss."

He kept his attention firmly on the road as Jack leaned further out the window, took aim, and shot at the other vehicle, hitting the rear, right-hand tyre twice. The sports car swerved violently, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the road.

Jack was grinning as he slid back inside. He dramatically blew a puff across the end of his revolver, quickly holstered the weapon, and reclaimed the steering wheel. Ianto sighed with relief as he slumped back into his seat. Although he disapproved of Jack's impulsive behaviour at times, he couldn't deny that it was fun when Jack was around. If nothing else, being with Jack was certainly never dull.

"Not bad, huh?" Jack asked smugly, slowing the SUV as they approached the immobilised car.

"Show off," Ianto retorted, although he couldn't quite hide the smile from his face. "Anyway, I could have taken that shot," he added confidently.

Jack laughed. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

"Absolutely," Ianto said with conviction. While he wasn't immodest in nature, even Jack had praised his marksmanship skills on several occasions.

Jack pulled up behind the stopped car, keeping some distance between them. "Okay, next time we do this, it's your turn to take out the other car. Deal?"

Before Ianto could offer a sarcastic reply, the two blowfish leapt out of the other vehicle, both brandishing guns and firing at the SUV. Ianto instinctively ducked, but the bullets simply ricocheted harmlessly off the SUV's reinforced, bullet-proof windows. The blowfish turned away and ran off, each of them going in a different direction. Feeling a surge of anger, Ianto thrust open the door and jumped out, readying his gun, as Jack did the same.

He glanced at Jack who seemed to be caught in a moment of indecision. "Jack, go," he urged, tilting his head towards the blowfish that had headed eastwards down an adjacent lane-way. "I'll go after the other one."

"You should wait here with the SUV," Jack argued.

"We're wasting time," Ianto said determinedly. "I'll be fine. Go on."

Jack looked extremely unhappy, but he nodded, albeit with obvious reluctance. "All right, but be careful. They're dangerous and unpredictable. And stay on comms."

Ianto nodded tersely, extracting his earpiece from the inside pocket of his jacket and slipping it into his ear. With a final glance at Jack, he turned away and sprinted off in pursuit of the blowfish.

###

"Let her go," Ianto demanded, forcing his voice to remain calm and narrowing his eyes at the fish-like creature, hideously dressed in a purple suit and an orange tie.

He'd pursued the blowfish into a house at the far end of the street, where it had taken the solitary occupant hostage. The creature had his gun pressed against the terrified young woman's temple, his other hand wrapped around her throat, and glared malevolently at Ianto with dark, glazed eyes. With his gun held firmly in a two-handed grip, Ianto tried to keep it trained on the red skinned, spiny head, but the blowfish kept moving from side to side, jostling the terrified woman around to shield himself.

"Ah, so who do we have here? Torchwood's office boy," the blowfish sneered. "Promoted beyond his measure. Pretending to be so brave. But really, so scared. Where's your master? Finally let go of your leash?" The fish tightened his grip on the wide-eyed woman, causing her to whimper. A contemptuous smirk spread across his face. "A pity our little trap didn't take care of both of you, but don't worry, my colleague will deal with your precious Captain."

Ianto gripped his gun more tightly, his palms feeling slick against the cool metal, his finger poised tentatively on the trigger. He forced himself to take steady, even breaths, trying not to tense up too much, all of his senses heightened to a state of hyper-awareness. A trickle of sweat trailed uncomfortably down his back. He was on his own, he couldn't defer to Jack, it was up to him to handle the situation. He needed to take out the alien, but he didn't want to risk injuring the woman by accident. However, he knew that if he didn't act, the blowfish would probably kill her anyway. The alien was clearly acting in desperation, and Ianto suspected he was wired on cocaine, recalling from the Torchwood records that the species apparently had an affinity for the drug.

"You'll find Jack isn't quite so easy to stop," he scoffed, ignoring the alien's other disparaging remarks.

The blowfish hissed, revealing a set of sharp, pointed teeth. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

Ianto clenched his jaw, refusing to rise to the pointless mockery. His finger quivered over the trigger as he tried to anticipate the creature's furtive movements. He avoided making eye contact with the panicked woman, knowing it might cause him to lose focus for even the briefest of moments.

"So, what about it, minion?" the blowfish taunted, dodging out of Ianto's line of sight again. "Can you do it? How good are you? How sharp is your aim?"

Despite his efforts, Ianto's entire body had tensed up, wound tight like a coiled spring. He shifted his stance slightly and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"What if you kill her?" the creature continued relentlessly, causing the sobbing woman to cry out as he pressed his face closer to hers. "What if I kill her first?"

Ianto loosened his grip slightly as he tried to re-adjust his aim, his eyes unblinking and locked with those of the blowfish.

"Can you shoot, before I do?" the blowfish asked mockingly. "Can you?" he repeated. "Dare you?" He shifted his head, a menacing grin pulling the corners of his mouth upwards. "Will you?" He shifted again. "Won't you?"

The tension in the air was palpable, and Ianto knew he couldn't delay any longer. Steeling himself, he found his chance as the blowfish's movements stopped for just a very slight moment. There was an instant where the mocking facade abruptly vanished, the blowfish seeming to realise that Ianto was actually a serious threat.

Ianto squeezed the trigger, his confidence in his aim wavering as he braced himself against the recoil. He watched in shock as the bullet tore through the blowfish's skull, its brains splattering on the wall behind with a sickening squelch.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who continues to review and support this story. It really does help enormously. A special thank you as always to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and encouragement. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_**November 12th, 2004 (continued)**_

Ianto stood frozen in place, gun still outstretched and held tightly in both hands, his mind a mass of confused, twisted thoughts as he stared wide-eyed at the dead body of the blowfish. The creature was sprawled out unceremoniously in a macabre arrangement of limbs, a pool of dark blood oozing into the rug beneath its head. He'd never fired a gun with the intent to kill before, and a part of him recoiled in horror from the unconscionable but necessary act. The blowfish had tried to kill Jack, and he knew it would have felt no remorse about killing both himself and the young woman if he hadn't intervened. He didn't take any satisfaction in what he'd done, but the more pragmatic part of his nature asserted itself, reminding him that he'd done his job in eliminating a very real and immediate threat.

He was dimly aware of the young woman scurrying away from the alien's corpse to the opposite corner of the modestly furnished living room. Her ragged sobbing punctuated the palpable, unsettling silence. With her arms wrapped defensively around her body, she was looking up at him with tear-filled eyes in what seemed to be a mixture of fear and relief.

"It's okay," he murmured, as much for his own benefit as for the distraught young woman's. He took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly lowered his gun, engaging the safety and tucking it away in the pocket of his jacket, the weight of it feeling heavy and damning in a way he'd never experienced before. "Everything's fine now," he said more loudly, surprised by the calm steadiness of his voice.

He stood indecisively for several more moments, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. It was with profound relief when Jack's voice sounded in his ear, asking if he was all right. Tapping his earpiece, he replied in the affirmative, succinctly reporting that the blowfish he'd pursued had been dealt with. Jack told him to stay put and that he was on his way.

Ianto tried to offer the woman a reassuring smile. "My colleague will be here in a minute or two," he said evenly, in what he hoped was a reassuring, non-threatening tone. "He'll help me remove the body. Then we'll get out of your way."

The woman stared up at him. "What was that thing? I... I thought it was going to kill me."

Ianto shook his head firmly. "I wouldn't have let that happen. You're safe now."

He was spared any further awkward questions when Jack swept in through the front door in a swirl of coattails, looking every bit the dashing hero, albeit a somewhat dishevelled one due to recent events. He quickly surveyed the scene, then moved over to where Ianto was standing. He placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You okay?" he asked, looking at him with a worried expression.

"Yeah," Ianto murmured, mortified to realise how badly he wanted Jack to take him into his arms and simply hold him.

Jack frowned, looking unconvinced. "Sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ianto smiled weakly, straightening himself up to his full height. "What about the other blowfish?"

"Taken care of," Jack replied grimly. "The body's in the back of the SUV." He gave Ianto's shoulder a reassuring rub before sliding his hand away. "Up to giving me a hand with this one?"

Ianto nodded. "Yes, of course."

Jack turned to look at the young woman. "Sorry about this," he said apologetically. He flashed her one of his trademark persuasive smiles. "Any chance of making us all a cup of tea while we clean up in here?"

The woman stared at him disbelievingly for a moment, but then nodded mutely and rose shakily to her feet. Ianto supposed she thought better of arguing with two strange, armed men who had suddenly invaded her home, no matter how malapropos the request.

"It's kind of tragic really," Jack muttered, once she'd retreated to the kitchen and was out of earshot.

Ianto frowned. "What is?"

"That lovely young woman has two gorgeous, charismatic men in her house, and she'll never even remember." Jack sighed dramatically.

Ianto shook his head in fond exasperation, resisting the urge to admonish Jack for being completely inappropriate. At the same time, he was grateful for the momentary distraction. He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to look over at the alien corpse again. "Right, let's get this cleaned up then."

###

With retcon administered and all trace of the blowfish's presence removed from the scene, they returned to the Hub and carried the pair of body bags down to the medical bay. Ianto had notified the police about the location of the stolen sports car, effectively bringing the case to a close, apart from disposing of the bodies and writing up the report, both of which they'd agreed could wait until the morning.

At Jack's suggestion, Ianto accompanied him down to his bunker, and they stripped off their mostly ruined clothing. Showering together, they gently cleaned each other's bodies, sharing unhurried, indulgent kisses as the water cascaded over them. He tried not to think too much about the hint of fear that seemed to linger in Jack's eyes, or the trace of desperation in the way Jack touched and kissed him. He was fairly certain the other man was thinking about how easily the outcome of the evening could have been very different.

They dried each other off, and with a towel wrapped around his waist, Ianto retrieved the spare set of clothes he now kept for convenience in Jack's wardrobe. He focused his attention on getting dressed again, Jack following his lead. As much as he was tempted to curl up in Jack's narrow bed, he wanted the comfort of home, whether Jack decided to accompany him or not. He frowned slightly at the soft pink shirt before slipping it on, the colour seeming inappropriate for his current mood, but it was the only clean one he had on hand, and Jack's shirts were too big for him. Returning to the tiny, cramped bathroom, he styled his damp hair, then carefully knotted his blue striped tie. He stared at his reflection for a long moment, trying to discern any difference, but other than a tinge of weariness in his features, nothing seemed to have changed. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disturbed.

He turned to find Jack dressed and leaning against the door frame, watching him intently. Stepping around him and over to the ladder, he averted his eyes from the other man's penetrating gaze and slipped on the jacket of his pinstriped suit. He didn't want Jack to coddle or worry about him, or treat him as fragile and innocent. Presentable again and shrouded in the familiarity of a clean, pressed suit, he began to feel calmer and more composed.

"I'll make us some coffee," he said lightly, glancing back at Jack before retrieving the last of Jack's spare coats and nimbly climbing the ladder.

He hung the new coat on the stand near Jack's desk, trailing his fingers over the heavy, dark wool and making a mental note to see about sourcing some more replacements. Then he strode briskly to the kitchen area and busied himself with the routine, comforting task. He'd just finished when Jack joined him, and they carried their drinks over to the sofa, Jack making his usual decadent murmurings as he breathed in the rich aroma of the steaming liquid and began sipping at it tentatively.

"It's never easy to take a life." Jack's voice was soft and pensive. "But they didn't give us a choice and they needed to be stopped. It's not noble or honourable... killing never is. But we did what needed to be done."

Ianto took a sip of his coffee and breathed out a soft sigh. He glanced up to see Jack's blue eyes looking at him imploringly. "I know."

"I just don't want you to tear yourself up over it, okay?" Jack paused, resting his free hand on Ianto's knee. "If you want to talk about it, you can talk to me any time you like."

Ianto nodded and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jack. I'll be fine."

"That's what you always say." Jack sighed and shook his head.

Ianto struggled to hold back his irritation. He appreciated Jack's concern, he really did, but there was nothing to be said. He'd done what was necessary, and it was unlikely to be the last time he'd be required to do something distasteful in the line of duty. When he held a loaded gun in his hands he knew he had to be prepared to use it, whether in defence of himself or of others. He understood that and it was one of the first things Jack had taught him. "Because it's usually true," he said matter-of-factly.

For a moment it looked like Jack was going to keep pushing, but then he simply nodded. "Just as long as you know it's okay not to be fine once in a while."

Not sure what else to say, Ianto settled on taking Jack's hand in his own and tangling their fingers together.

"I hate putting you in danger," Jack murmured a few moments later, breaking the silence again. "But you were amazing tonight. I'm proud of you, Ianto. Very proud."

Ianto squeezed Jack's hand to convey his appreciation. Although he didn't feel like he'd done anything to deserve Jack's praise, the rush of warmth he felt in response acted as a balm to his turbulent thoughts. If nothing else, he was glad he hadn't let Jack down.

The Rift alarm suddenly sounded, startling them both, and Jack swore under his breath. He moved over to the nearest workstation and pulled up the relevant data, Ianto joining him and peering over his shoulder.

Jack straightened up and looked at him apologetically. "Car park in the city centre. I'd better go check it out."

"I'll come with you," Ianto said quickly, turning and moving to Jack's office to retrieve his greatcoat.

He returned a moment later and helped Jack to put the coat on. Jack seemed about to protest, so he added, "With a bit of luck it won't be anything major. Then we can head back to the apartment for the night."

Jack nodded, surprisingly without further debate. "All right. Let's go."

###

Ianto studied his hand scanner as he and Jack stood beside corpse they'd found on the ground below the multi-storey car park. The man appeared to be in his late twenties. "Fragments of Rift energy, around the neck, arm and shoulders."

"He was grabbed and pushed," Jack concluded.

Ianto glanced at him. "So, there's a potential killer on the loose. Bipedal, maybe humanoid."

Jack nodded, sighing wearily. "Okay, I'll drop you off at home, then I'll head back to the Hub and see what I can piece together."

Ianto looked over to where the two police constables attending the scene were watching them. One was a tall, lanky, blond-haired man, the other a shorter, young brunette woman with wide, curious eyes. The woman seemed to be taking a particular interest in Jack, not that he could really blame her for that. Jack always attracted attention and Ianto was perfectly happy with that arrangement, preferring to remain inconspicuous and in the background. She whispered something insistently to the blond man, who just shrugged, muttering in reply while looking bored and uninterested.

Ianto nodded to them and smiled politely. "Thank you. We'll be on our way. You can let SOCO in now."

He turned and followed Jack around the corner to where the SUV was parked. Jack's hand was on the handle of the driver's side door when an unfamiliar beeping tone began emanating from his wrist-strap.

Ianto raised his eyebrows as he moved to stand at Jack's side. "Whoa! I've never heard it beep like that before."

"That's what I was thinking," Jack agreed, turning away from the SUV and pressing a button on the device. A blue holographic image of a lean, angular man with short, combed-back wavy hair shimmered to life in front of them.

Ianto stared at the image incredulously. The implications of this man contacting Jack via fifty-first century technology wasn't lost on him, but even more startling was the familiarity of the man's narrow, chiselled features, complete with prominent, sculptured cheekbones. He blinked several times, wondering if his weary mind was playing tricks on him.

"I can't believe I got the answering machine!" the hologram declared disdainfully. "What can you be doing that's more important than me? Anyway, you've probably traced the energy shift, found the body. All me, sorry about the mess. Bill me for the clean-up. Now, drinks! Trace the transmission coordinates, that's where I am. And hurry up, work to do!" The man bent down and glanced over his shoulder. "Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope," he added, impersonating an earnest, female voice.

The holographic projection vanished and Ianto experienced a sinking feeling with the realisation that another part of Jack's long, secretive past had chosen that moment to come crashing into their lives. He turned and looked at Jack's shell-shocked features.

"Jack?" he asked reluctantly, his tone lacking his usual calm stoicism. "Who the bloody hell was that?"

The other man's features shifted into a hard, guarded expression. "I need to deal with this. You'll have to get a taxi to take you home."

Ianto shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. "No, I'm coming with you."

"Ianto, just do as I say. Please." Jack's voice carried a mixture of irritation and impatience. "I don't have time to argue with you."

"Then don't. You know I'm just going to follow you anyway," Ianto retorted, squaring his shoulders and looking at Jack stubbornly. He still hadn't confronted Jack about the Doctor, the timing never seeming to be right to raise the delicate subject. He was damned if he was going to let Jack keep him in the dark this time.

Jack growled in frustration, yanking open the car door and climbing in. "Fine, get in then."

They pulled up a few minutes later outside a bar at the southern end of the city centre, the silence between them thick and heavy for the duration of the brief trip. Ianto's mind was spinning with questions about this mysterious stranger, but Jack clearly wasn't in a receptive mood so he'd remained silent. He unfastened his seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but Jack grabbed his forearm tightly, causing him to stop and look at the other man.

"I need you to stay back and out of the way. Whatever happens in there, don't get involved." Jack's eyes were steely and uncompromising. "That's an order, Ianto."

"Yes, sir," Ianto replied tersely, irritated more than usual by Jack's overprotective treatment of him.

Jack narrowed his eyes, but he removed his grip from Ianto's arm without another word. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him and striding briskly towards the bar's main entrance, leaving Ianto to follow cautiously in his wake.

The eclectic, upmarket interior of Bar Reunion was strangely deserted, except for a man sitting alone at the far end of the bar counter. It spanned the entire left-hand side of the extensive room, the opposite side filled with booths and tables. The man was downing shots of alcohol from a long row of glasses spread out in front of him, tossing them back carelessly, like they were nothing more than water. Although hunched over and in profile, it was unmistakeably the man from the hologram.

As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, Jack turned to Ianto, placing a palm against his chest and halting his progress. "Wait here," he ordered.

Ianto watched anxiously as Jack stalked towards the other man. Looking up and directing his gaze at Jack, the stranger swallowed the contents of another shot glass before sliding off the barstool and sauntering forward a few steps. His hands dropped to his sides where a pair of gun holsters were strapped low around his hips, while his eyes remained fixed on Jack's approach. Like Jack, his attire was anachronistic and obviously chosen to draw attention. He was wearing tall, battered brown boots and tight jeans, accompanied by a short red military-style jacket with white trim across the front, vaguely reminiscent of coats historically worn by soldiers of the British army. A tight, stained white t-shirt encased the slim torso beneath his jacket. The outfit combined with the man's body language oozed danger and arrogant self-confidence.

He didn't give any indication he'd noticed Ianto yet, who remained standing in the shadows just inside the doorway. The man was clearly trouble, and every muscle in Ianto's body was tense as he waited to see what would happen next.

Jack came to a stop in front of the stranger, and the two men stared at each other for a long, tension-filled moment, neither of them moving. Suddenly the man surged forward, grabbed hold of Jack, and began kissing him fiercely.

Ianto felt his mouth drop open in shock.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Notes:** Early post this week! Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks again to all of you who reviewed the last chapter, it really helped to give me some encouragement. Thanks also as always to Prothrombintime for much appreciated support and advice.

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Eight**

_**November 12th, 2004 (continued)**_

Jack appeared to be frozen in place, his arms held stiffly at his sides, neither reciprocating the kiss or recoiling away from it. Ianto was equally still as his initial shock gave way to a wave of possessive anger that burned hot in his chest, making it almost impossible to breath. He clenched his fists causing his fingernails to bite painfully into the palms of his hands, and stared with unblinking eyes, waiting to see if Jack would kiss the other man back.

Time seemed to drift, mere seconds dragging on with excruciating slowness. It wasn't just that Jack was being kissed by someone else, it was the way in which this unknown man was kissing him. It was aggressive and dominating, as if the man was reclaiming what was rightfully his. Ianto wanted nothing more than to march forward, tear them apart, and punch the man in the face with every ounce of strength he possessed. His mind promptly conjured up the image, complete with a satisfying crunch as his fist connected with one of those ridiculous cheekbones. He was stunned that witnessing Jack being kissed by another person could produce such an intensely visceral, primal response within him. The raw, palpable desire to stake his claim wasn't a feeling he was accustomed to, and he found it deeply unsettling.

Just as he'd decided he couldn't remain idle for a moment longer, Jack roughly pushed the stranger away and took a step backwards. The man stumbled, almost losing his balance, but grabbing the edge of the bar to steady himself. Ianto allowed himself a small smirk of pleasure from the expression of astonishment on the man's face. He obviously hadn't been expecting his advances to be rebuffed quite so forcefully.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at Ianto, a worried frown marring his features. Momentarily distracted, Jack didn't see the other man's fist before it impacted viciously with his jaw, sending him crashing back against the bar. Ianto winced as Jack awkwardly pulled himself upright, the stranger's face taking on a taunting, self-satisfied sneer.

Without warning Jack retaliated, punching the man in the face, the force of the impact causing him to reel backwards. Jack immediately followed with a hard blow to the man's stomach. That was just the beginning, and Ianto watched in fascinated horror as the two men engaged in a ferocious bar brawl the likes of which he'd never witnessed before. They fought brutally and relentlessly, decimating the surroundings in their wake. The two men seemed to almost revel in the barbarity, as if it was some form of depraved foreplay.

It was several minutes later when they crashed through a decorative glass wall, falling to the floor in a mass of tangled limbs and shards of glass. Ianto was about to leap to Jack's rescue when just as suddenly both men were back on their feet, guns out and held at arm's length, aimed at each other's heads. They circled around each other, dishevelled and bloody, eyes narrowed dangerously, and guns unwavering.

Ianto couldn't restrain himself any longer. Pulling his gun from his jacket, he strode forwards, priming the weapon and aiming it squarely at Jack's assailant. "Put the gun down," he growled, surprising himself with the menace in his voice. "Now."

To his astonishment, Jack laughed. "I'd do what he says. I've trained him myself, and he doesn't miss."

The stranger's eyes shifted to Ianto, seeming to notice him for the first time, his expression appraising and vaguely lecherous. "All right, all right. No need to get overexcited," he muttered, his voice arrogant and slightly mocking.

The man casually lowered his gun, slipping it back into the empty holster strapped to his right hip. His gaze shifted back towards Jack, looking him up and down speculatively. "What are you wearing?"

Jack slowly put away his gun, nodding to Ianto to do the same, which he did, although reluctantly. He took a step back, his body still tense as he watched the stranger warily. "Captain Jack Harkness, note the stripes," Jack replied cheekily.

"Captain John Hart, note the sarcasm," the man retorted.

Jack looked outraged. "Hey, I worked my way up through the ranks."

"I bet the ranks were very grateful." John grinned suggestively, still breathing heavily from their fight. He turned towards Ianto, raising his eyebrows as his gaze raked lewdly up and down the length of Ianto's body. "So, who's this delicious piece of eye candy?" An unpleasant smirk spread across his face. "Aren't you going to introduce us, 'Jack'?"

Ianto scowled at John, his dislike of the man increasing exponentially by the second. But before he could react further, Jack grabbed John roughly by the front of his red jacket and pulled him close until their faces were almost touching. Jack's features twisted into a malevolent glare. "Look at him like that again and I guarantee you'll regret it."

John looked unrepentant, his leering expression not faltering. "Easy there, big boy. I see you're still as possessive as you used to be. You never were good with sharing your toys." He pulled himself out of Jack's grip, straightened his jacket, and glanced appraisingly at Ianto again. "Not that I can blame you." He looked back at Jack. "Kind of young for you though isn't he? And by the way, have you put on weight?"

Despite himself, Ianto had to stifle an amused snort. Jack, on the other hand, looked like he was about to hurl himself at the other man again and beat him to a bloody pulp. A little unnerved to see Jack so aggressive and unconstrained, Ianto glared at John and stepped closer to Jack. "Who is he, Jack?" he asked quietly.

Jack sighed, his furious gaze softening a little as he looked at Ianto. "We go back."

"Excuse me," John interrupted. "We more than go back. We were partners."

"In what way?" Ianto found himself asking, not sure he actually wanted to know the answer. The two men clearly had a turbulent history together, and as determined as he was not to act like the jealous lover, to his extreme chagrin, he realised that was exactly what he was doing.

John produced a smug smile. "In every way. And then some."

"It was two weeks," Jack retorted, glaring angrily at John again.

"Except that two weeks was trapped in a time loop, so we were together for five years." John looked far too pleased with himself for Ianto's liking. "It was like having a wife."

"You were the wife," Jack snapped.

"You were the wife," John argued.

Jack stabbed his finger at John's chest. "No, YOU were the wife."

John grinned broadly. "Oh, but I was a good wife."

Ianto stared at John speechlessly, trying to process this latest revelation, while wondering how it was possible the two men had managed not to kill each other in all of that time together.

Jack sighed and shook his head, slumping back against the edge of the bar. "So, how was rehab?"

"Rehabs. Plural," John stated matter-of-factly.

Jack frowned. "Drink, drugs, sex and...?"

"Murder," John replied with a shrug.

"You went to murder rehab?" Jack asked incredulously, glancing at Ianto before looking at John again.

"I know, ridiculous." John pouted theatrically. "The odd kill, who does it hurt?"

Ianto observed the two men as they reminisced for a minute or so, disconcerted and more jealous than he was willing to admit. He knew it was completely irrational to feel that way, given that Jack must have had numerous partners and lovers over this very long life. He supposed he'd just never thought he'd come face-to-face with one of them, especially one that, while undeniably good-looking, was also a self-proclaimed psychopath. He wasn't sure how to feel about Jack having once been involved with someone so amoral and contemptuous. John Hart was a real piece of work, and he'd thought Jack would have had higher standards, no matter how intense the physical attraction. However, he listened carefully, taking particular note when John mentioned something about an organisation called the Time Agency.

"It's good to see you," John said quietly, a nostalgic hint in his voice, and a glimmer of something close to affection in his eyes. "It was never the same without you."

Much to Ianto's relief, Jack appeared to be entirely unmoved. "Sorry, what's the Time Agency?" he asked, forcing himself into the conversation.

John looked at him with what seemed to be a mixture of complacency and pity. "What, he hasn't told you about his past?"

"No, he hasn't," Ianto said pointedly, glancing at Jack and surprised to find apprehension in his eyes.

Jack quickly averted his gaze and stood up straight, taking an intimidating stance in front of John. "You need to go. I don't want you on my territory."

"There was a time when you couldn't get enough of me on your 'territory'," John retorted, looking at Jack disbelievingly, then glancing at Ianto. "So, what's the deal with you and Eye Candy here? Are the two of you some sort of team? Oh, do you have a team name? I love team names, go on!"

"Torchwood," Jack replied curtly.

"Oh. Not Excalibur? Blizzard? Bikini Cops? No? Torchwood. Oh, dear." John shook his head sadly, then grinned at Ianto. "You still haven't told me your name, Eye Candy."

"His name's Ianto Jones." Jack breathed out deeply, rubbing his hand over his face. "What are you doing here, John?"

"I was wondering when we'd get to that." John fiddled with his wrist-strap for a moment and a rotating blue hologram of a cylindrical alien object materialised before them.

"That's the same as yours," Ianto murmured to Jack, looking curiously at the device on John's wrist.

Jack nodded. "A little smaller though."

"But lasts much longer," John countered with a salacious grin. "Get two Time Agents in the same room together, it's always about the size of the wrist-strap." When Jack failed to respond, he simply shrugged. "Anyway... I'm working with this woman, beautiful, clever, sexy, yadda yadda yadda, and we both get shot. And as she's dying, she begs me. She tells me about these radiation cluster bombs she'd been working on."

Ianto frowned. "Um... I don't like the sound of that."

"Three canisters, contents beyond toxic, swallowed up in a rift storm," John continued to explain.

"And they ended up here," Jack interjected, sounding resigned.

"Bingo! That's the downside of your city being built on a rift in space and time. Now, left to their own devices, the radiation will break down the canisters... and then infect your people and planet. They need to be neutralised."

Jack looked at him suspiciously. "What do you get out of this?"

"Dying woman's wish," John replied, the expression on Jack's face showing his obvious disbelief. "Now, there's only one problem. I don't know where they are. Hoping local knowledge might help." He tapped his wrist-strap again and the hologram vanished.

"When we get back to the Hub, we can run a citywide scan on radiation surges and cross reference that with Rift activity during that time-frame," Ianto suggested.

"So, you're not only gorgeous, Eye Candy, you're clever too. I can see why Jack here keeps you around." John looked at Ianto in a way that made his skin crawl, before turning his attention to Jack again. "You see, together it's an easy job."

"We do this, you get out of here when it's finished," Jack said firmly, his eyes narrowing. "Right away."

"Does this mean I get to see your house?" John asked with evident amusement. "Just give me a minute first. Need to visit the little boys' room." He sauntered off towards a doorway at the back of the bar.

Jack stared after him, a dark look clouding his features. Ianto shuffled his feet awkwardly, then cleared his throat. "Please tell me your ex's aren't all like that," he muttered with a nervous half-laugh.

Jack shook his head and slumped against the bar again, not meeting Ianto's eyes. "When he and I..." He trailed off and sighed. "It was a very long time ago... a part of my life I'm not proud of. Let's just say I was young and extremely foolish."

Jack looked up into Ianto's eyes with obvious reluctance. Ianto was surprised to see genuine fear in those blue depths he adored, and he was struck by a sudden realisation. As unlikely as it seemed, Jack was terrified that he would reject him if he knew the truth – if he knew the kind of man Jack had once been to become involved with a twisted, narcissistic bastard like John Hart.

"Fortunately, my taste has improved considerably over the years," Jack added, a tremulous, self-deprecating smile flickering over his lips.

"Suppose it had to, didn't it?" Ianto suggested wryly, feeling a little of his tension begin to ease with the knowledge that Hart was a nothing more than an unwelcome remnant of Jack's past.

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. I suppose it did."

"Jack, does he remind you of someone?" When the other man just looked at him blankly, Ianto rolled his eyes and added, "A certain fictional peroxide-blond vampire you're rather fond of?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Huh, you're right. Wow! Must not have noticed because of the hair. Gotta say he's much hotter as a blond." Pausing, he looked thoughtful. "Hmm, maybe he's got a time-travelling twin brother I never knew about."

Ianto raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"You never know." Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Either that or a clone. Wouldn't put it past him."

Ianto shook his head in disbelief. "I don't trust him," he murmured. "I don't like him much either. And if he calls me Eye Candy again, I might have to punch him. Or shoot him. I haven't decided yet."

Jack let out a mirthless chuckle. "The bastard certainly deserves it," he agreed darkly. "But if you do that, he'll probably just think it's foreplay. He'll think you want to have sex with him."

Ianto allowed his features to convey exactly how distasteful he found the suggestion, not that he could ever imagine wanting to sleep with a man who wasn't Jack.

Jack gave him a teasing grin, his features seeming to relax for the first time since John had contacted them. "By the way, am I detecting a hint of jealousy, Ianto Jones?"

Ianto huffed indignantly. "No. That's ridiculous."

"Mm-hmm." Jack's smug grin lingered for a moment, then he became serious again. "Look, I don't trust him either. Never have. But there's a slim chance he's breaking a habit of a lifetime and telling the truth. Which means the city's in danger. I don't like it, but we'll have to play along and find out what he's up to." He reached for Ianto's upper arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just be careful and watch your back. Don't believe anything he says. And whatever you do, don't let him kiss you."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the habit of going around kissing random men. Especially psychotic ones who may or may not have clones of themselves swanning about."

"Let's just keep it that way then." Jack smiled tightly, but the smile quickly faltered, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his eyes. "He was right about one thing though. I don't like to share. Not when it's someone who means so much to me."

Ianto nodded awkwardly, surprised but reassured by Jack's unexpected admission, and feeling a bit foolish about his earlier surge of jealousy. "I hated watching him kiss you," he murmured self-consciously, lowering his gaze. "Guess I don't like to share either."

"Ianto?" Jack said softly, a moment later.

Ianto hesitantly lifted his eyes to meet Jack's again. "Yes, Jack?"

Jack reached for his hand and grasped it firmly. "For the record, you have nothing to be jealous about. John's ancient history. He's someone I'd hoped never to see again. He's a reminder of my past, and I want him gone."

Ianto nodded again but before he could respond, John burst back into the room, a smarmy grin plastered across his face. "Come on then team Torchwood," he announced, his voice filled with derisive condescension. "Work to do."

He swaggered past them towards the entrance. Ianto rolled his eyes, sharing a resigned look with Jack, who clenched his jaw and scowled after the other man. Ianto squeezed Jack's hand reassuringly before letting it go, and together they followed John outside.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Notes:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I appreciate it enormously. Thanks also to Prothrombintime for always finding the time to read my ramblings, and for invaluable suggestions and encouragement. Enjoy the new chapter! *ducks for cover*

* * *

**Chapter Twent****y-Nine**

_**November 12th, 2004 (continued)**_

"Oh, yeah! Loving that office-y feel!" Jack announced as they entered the large open-plan office space, looking around with apparent glee. "I always get excited in these places. To me, they're exotic." He grinned at Ianto and winked. "Office romances... photocopying your butt... Maybe not your butt, although since we're here..."

Ianto rolled his eyes, partly amused and partly frustrated. He was tired and irritable, and he wanted the long, arduous night to be over. He especially wanted John Hart permanently gone from their lives, and the sooner the better. Hart was a compulsive liar, evidenced by the small arsenal of weapons they'd confiscated from him after they'd returned to the Hub, and the man had no sense of propriety or boundaries. Ianto didn't like the way John looked at him, like he was a plaything whose existence was solely for his amusement. He liked the way John looked at Jack even less. His only comfort was that the attraction seemed to be entirely one-sided.

They'd run a citywide scan, finding three locations where minor surges in Rift energy had occurred several hours earlier. John had wanted them to split up and take one location each, but Jack had adamantly vetoed the plan, probably on principle alone, Ianto suspected. Instead, they'd dropped John off at the first location near the docks, then proceeded to the second location – Stadium House, a seventeen-storey tall office building at the centre of the city. The plan was to retrieve the canister, then proceed to the third location – a warehouse to the city's north – and collect John on the way back to the Hub, all three canisters in hand and contained. Ianto would have preferred to deposit the former Time Agent in one of the Hub's inhospitable holding cells, but he'd conceded to Jack's judgement on how to best handle the situation.

He looked down at his scanner, growling under his breath when it stubbornly refused to narrow down the location of the canister. Looking dejectedly around the vast, cluttered office, he wondered where to begin their search. "The Rift was active at these coordinates two-hundred feet above ground. That means this floor or the roof," he stated, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Ianto, come over here," Jack said quietly.

Ianto glanced over to where Jack was leaning against a nearby wall, almost hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit space. "Jack, we don't have time..."

"Just for a minute," Jack said, his tone insistent.

Ianto sighed and pocketed his scanner, then made his way over to the other man. "Jack..."

Anything else he might have said was cut off as Jack grasped his hips and pulled him close, capturing his mouth in a slow, sensuous kiss. Ianto's resistance quickly weakened and he parted his lips, welcoming Jack's exploratory tongue and teasing it with his own. Sliding his hands up Jack's arms and around his neck, he tangled his fingers in Jack's thick hair, pushing him back against the wall. He pressed the full length of their bodies together, deepening the kiss. It rapidly became demanding and passionate, almost desperate, and he realised Jack was letting him dominate and take the lead... that Jack was allowing him to stake his claim and didn't seem to mind in the least. The startling revelation sent a fierce surge of arousal coursing through him. Grinding his hips against Jack's, he plundered the other man's mouth relentlessly, relishing the wanton groan he was rewarded in response.

A minute or so passed and he knew they had to stop before the tenuous remnants of his self-control shattered. Jack could be devilishly persuasive, and he doubted it would take much encouragement for him to become a willing participant in whatever lewd office fantasies the older man's mind had conjured up. Summoning all the willpower he possessed, he swiped his tongue across Jack's lips one more time and broke off their kiss. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Jack's and drawing in a deep, steadying breath.

"Wow," Jack murmured against his lips, nudging his nose against Ianto's.

"Yeah," Ianto agreed, his voice wavering.

"So, I was thinking..." Jack's hand trailed up the front of Ianto's shirt, tweaking a nipple and causing his breath to hitch. "I kind of like the nickname Eye Candy, especially when you're wearing this shirt. Maybe I'll start using it."

Ianto's eyes sprung open and he pulled back far enough to meet Jack's teasing gaze. "Well... you could. As long as you never want to have sex with me again."

"Spoilsport," Jack grumbled. "Hmm, I know... how about Tiger Pants?"

Ianto chuckled in spite of himself. "Only if you manage to get me rat-faced drunk first," he said wryly.

"Now that sounds like a challenge." Jack gave him a mischievous grin. "Might be fun. I've never seen you properly drunk."

Ianto seriously doubted he'd need much convincing, especially after the day he'd had. He took a step back, dislodging himself from Jack's arms. "Jack, we need to get back to work..." He began to turn away, but Jack gripped his arm and tugged him back again.

"I was also thinking... we shouldn't have to hide anymore... maybe we could, when this is done... dinner in a nice restaurant?" Jack's voice was surprisingly soft and tentative. "Maybe a movie afterwards?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out on a date, Jack?" he asked, falling back on their familiar banter.

Jack laughed slightly, sounding almost nervous. "Interested?"

"Well..." Ianto huffed. "As long as it's not in an office. Some fetishes should be kept to yourself."

"Was that a yes?" Jack asked cautiously.

Ianto smiled. "Yes."

A flicker of relief passed across Jack's face, but then his expression became sombre and guarded. "Ianto, you and me... we're okay aren't we?"

"Of course we are," Ianto assured him, although a little too hurriedly.

"Are you sure?" Jack looked at him doubtfully. "You've been... well, since you got back from London, you've been different... distant. I'd hoped you'd tell me what's wrong when you're ready. But now John's shown up..."

Ianto cringed inwardly and nervously straightened his suit jacket, cursing Jack's perceptiveness. He'd been foolish to think Jack wouldn't pick up on the change in his disposition since London, no matter how much he'd tried to hide it. They spent so much time together and were too attuned to each other's moods not to notice when something was wrong. He wasn't sure if he could successfully hide anything from Jack anymore, not that he wanted to, nor did he want to lie to him.

"Something else happened while I was in London," he admitted reluctantly. "But now isn't the time to talk about it."

"No, it's not," Jack agreed, looking at him with concern. "Will you tell me about it when this is over?"

"Will you tell me about how you became the way you are?" Ianto countered, not quite ready to completely give in. "Will you tell me about the Time Agency?"

Jack sighed heavily. "It was a long time ago, Ianto. I wasn't a good person back then. The work I do here, the person I am now. That's what I'm proud of. That's the person I want you to know."

Ianto searched Jack's features, finding scepticism mixed with the fear he'd seen earlier at the bar. He believed in Jack, and he'd never accept that Jack could have once been anything like John Hart. Jack may have lost his way for a while, but that didn't make him a bad person. "You're a good man, Jack," he said, his tone resolute. "Whatever you did in the past doesn't change that."

"Are you sure about that?" Jack asked uncertainly, but with the barest hint of challenge in his voice. "Ianto, there's so much you don't know about me..."

"I'm sure," Ianto said firmly. He reached up and cupped Jack's face gently in his hand, stroking his thumb over the lightly stubbled skin. "I'm sure, Jack," he repeated. "And I'm also sure that you've suffered more than you deserve... that you've punished yourself more than anyone else ever could."

Jack stared back at him for a long moment, clearly struggling with a multitude of emotions. Finally he nodded, then took Ianto's hand in his and pressed a lingering kiss against the palm. They stared into each other's eyes, and Ianto was sure of one more thing – that he could give Jack the love and acceptance he so desperately needed. That was something John Hart could never do.

Jack gently let go of Ianto's hand and averted his gaze, glancing around the office. "Looks like we're gonna have to go through every drawer, bin and plant pot."

Ianto stepped away, relieved the awkward conversation was over. He put his hands on his hips. "Right. Okay. I'll do this floor... don't want you getting overexcited..." He paused and gave Jack a small smile, fully aware of the irony of his words. "And you take the roof. You're good on roofs."

Jack grinned back, giving him a lazy salute before striding out of the office. Amused to be the one giving the orders for a change, Ianto watched Jack's retreat until he was out of sight.

Although nothing had truly been resolved, he felt as if a weight had lifted between them. Once the John Hart situation was dealt with, he'd ask Jack about the Doctor, and hopefully Jack would tell him at least a little about his past.

He turned to the nearest desk and got to work.

###

Fifteen minutes later, Ianto was still searching through the office and growing more frustrated by the moment. He stood up, straightened his back and sighed wearily, running his hand distractedly over his hair. He was just about to continue his search when he heard the ding of the lift, the sound unnaturally loud in the still silence of the office.

He fished his earpiece from his pocket and pressed it into his ear, tapping it to open the channel. "Jack? Is that you in the lift?"

There was no response, only an eerie silence. With a frown, he tried again, still to no effect. With a growing sense of unease, he pulled out his mobile phone and tried to call Jack. His frown deepened when the phone refused to connect, the screen showing that no service was available. Given they were in the centre of the city and surrounded by phone towers, he knew that should have been impossible.

He looked through the glass doors to the lift area, hearing the sound of a set of lift doors opening. Pulling out his gun, he approached the office doors and peered cautiously through the glass. Heart pounding, he pushed the doors open and edged slowly into the corridor, his gun gripped tightly in both hands. Finally reaching the open lift doors at the furthest end, he bit down nervously on his lip and raised his gun. With his breathing loud and heavy in his ears, he stepped around to look inside. He was both relieved and perplexed to find the lift empty.

Just as he was about to turn around, he felt the cold metal barrel of a gun press against the back of his head. He froze in place, his stomach clenching with fear.

"Into the lift, Eye Candy," John Hart said, the menace in his voice unmistakeable.

Ianto slowly raised his arms in surrender, holding himself still as his gun was plucked from his hand. Silently berating himself for so easily falling into Hart's obvious trap, he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and steeled himself, his fear beginning to mix with a surge of fiery anger. This psychopath from Jack's past had stormed unwelcome into their lives, and he felt fully justified in being royally pissed off. He deeply regretted not insisting that they lock the bastard up while they had the chance.

The reality of the situation wasn't lost on him. Hart was a self-confessed murderer and wouldn't have the least compunction about putting a bullet through his head. Nor did the fact that he happened to be the current object of Jack's affections bode well for his chances of escaping the situation unscathed. But he was damned if was going to give Hart the satisfaction of observing the full extent of his distress.

He settled his features into an impassive mask to the best of his ability and turned to face the other man.

Hart was smirking at him, his gun held high and aimed directly at the centre of Ianto's forehead. "So, we're alone at last, Eye Candy. Just you and me... no coattails for you to hide behind this time. And by the way, what is it with Jack and that ridiculous coat?"

He stepped forward, pressing the barrel of his gun against Ianto's brow and backing him into the lift. A shiver of cold fear coursed along Ianto's spine. He knew that with just a twitch of Hart's finger, his life would be instantly and brutally extinguished.

"Where's Jack?" he demanded, gravely fearing for Jack's safety in addition to his own. "What have you done to him?"

Hart kept pressing forward until Ianto was backed up against the rear wall of the lift. "You know, you really should worry more about yourself and less about your precious boyfriend."

Ianto reached up and tapped his earpiece, knowing the effort was futile but still needing to try. "Jack?" he called out. "Jack!"

Hart looked amused. "What am I, a child? It's a primitive bit of technology, easily blocked. You should be embarrassed."

"Why are you doing this?" Ianto was surprised by how steady his voice was, given that his entire body was almost trembling with fury.

"We're a cosmic joke, Eye Candy. An accident of chemicals and evolution. The jokes, the sex... they just cover the fact that nothing means anything. And the only consolation is money. Plus, there's Jack... now I've found him again, do you really think I'd just let him go?"

"He's not interested in you," Ianto said determinedly. "You're nothing to him."

"You really think you can compete with me? You're nothing more than a love-sick little boy. You could never be enough for someone like Jack." Hart shook his head pityingly. "This planet has made him soft. He used to have better taste."

"Doesn't look like that from here," Ianto retorted.

"He and I shared something. He'll soon come to his senses and join me again. Don't get me wrong, you're cute and I can see why Jack would keep you around." A horrible, suggestive smile crept across his lips. "I'm sure you make an amusing plaything."

Ianto clenched his jaw and balled his hands into tight fists, white hot anger searing through him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared malevolently at the other man, but somehow managed to remain silent.

"You really think Jack would stay here, tied to this one backwards little planet?" Hart continued, laughing contemptuously. "For you? Are you that stupid? There's thousands of worlds out there, Eye Candy, sparkling with wonder. The glitter of the galaxy. I can give him that again... Jack and I can be up there together, among the stars, claiming them for our own. Just like before."

"You're deluded," Ianto ground out through gritted teeth. "Jack would never go with you."

"Well, we'll just have to see about that." Hart moved in closer, leering at him as he stroked the tip of his gun down the side of Ianto's face. "It's kind of a shame we can't have some fun together."

He trailed the gun across Ianto's chin and then teased it up the other side of his face. Hart's hot breath ghosted over his skin, and an intense wave of pheromones assaulted his nostrils, sharp and almost sickly sweet. The scent was entirely different to Jack, but it was no less intense and overpowering. He blinked and swallowed, tremors of fear wracking his body as his stomach churned, bile rising to his throat.

"You are very pretty, Eye Candy." Abruptly, Hart pushed his body up against Ianto's and crashed their lips together.

Ianto froze, his muscles refusing to respond, whether out of fear, panic or shock, he wasn't sure. The pheromones had made his mind hazy and unclear, and it took a moment for him to process that the despicable, perverted bastard was actually kissing him.

Finally, he shoved the other man away with all his strength. "Get the fuck away from me!" he shouted.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in disgust, glaring at Hart with more hatred than he could ever remember experiencing. He could taste the other man on his lips and he felt violated and sick to his stomach. "You bastard," he muttered vehemently.

Hart leaned back casually against the other side of the lift and holstered his gun. His expression had changed into something that almost seemed tinged with regret.

Ianto stared at him in confusion for a long moment, then he felt a strange tingling sensation in his extremities. It intensified, a prickling numbness spreading out rapidly across his body. His legs trembled and gave way, causing him to slump against the lift wall and collapse to the floor. "What've you done?" he demanded with a shuddering gasp.

"Don't get up. I mean, you can't anyway." Hart stared down at him indifferently. "Paralysing lip gloss. I think it might have even been Jack who taught me that trick. Just one problem, if you're not found in two hours, your major organs will go into shut down."

Ianto desperately tried to move forward, horror and panic overwhelming his thoughts. However, his body refused to respond and he ended up on his back, staring up at the ceiling, paralysed and entirely unable to move. He managed to shift his eyes to where Hart was now standing at the threshold of the lift doors.

"You gonna be okay in here without me?" Hart taunted, punching a button on the lift controls. "He wouldn't have stayed with you. Goodbye, Ianto Jones."

"Going down," the monotonous recorded female voice of the lift announced.

"Going down! Yes, please," Hart added gleefully, backing out of the lift.

"Going down. Doors closing," the recorded voice stated calmly.

The doors closed and John Hart vanished from Ianto's field of vision. He pressed his eyes closed, blocking out the bright light of the lift's interior, strangely thankful that at least his eyelids were still functioning for the moment. He knew he was dead. Hart would make sure Jack didn't get to him in time, and even if he did, there would be nothing even Jack could do to save him.

The lift descended, carrying him downwards, the doors opening when it arrived at the ground floor. Ianto didn't bother trying to open his eyes, knowing the building's large foyer was dark and devoid of life. The doors slid closed again a few moments later, sealing him inside once more.

As the minutes passed slowly by, his initial panic gave way to a strange sense of calm acceptance. The simple act of breathing seemed to be becoming more arduous, and he wondered if he actually had as much time as Hart had stated. He wasn't in any pain, and he supposed there were worse ways to go, especially for those working for Torchwood. At least this way, he'd just fade away into the darkness.

His thoughts drifted, his mind tracing lazily back over the events of his all-too-brief life. He thought about his parents, especially his mum who had been taken from them far too soon, and his sister who he'd never see again. She would never know the truth about the life he'd led or how he died. He thought about his niece and nephew who he'd never get to see grow up, and who wouldn't even remember him. He thought about Lisa and the life they might have had together if things had worked out differently.

And he thought about his beautiful, tormented Jack, the man who, beyond all rhyme or reason, he'd grown to love with all of his heart. He knew Jack would never leave Earth and go with John Hart. This was Jack's home, and Jack was strong, he'd move on and find someone else who would love him and take care of him. He hoped Jack would remember him, at least for a while, and that he'd look back fondly on the time they'd had together. He hoped Jack wouldn't cut himself off from the world again. Mostly, he hoped that Jack knew he'd been loved, that he was worthy of love, and that he deserved to have happiness in his life, no matter how fleeting. He could never have any regrets and he wouldn't have changed what he'd shared with Jack for the world, but he wished they'd had more time together.

"Jack," he managed to barely whisper, his throat tight, his lips refusing to move. "Jack..."


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Notes:** Here's a bonus chapter for the weekend. Enjoy! Many thanks as always to Prothrombintime for greatly appreciated feedback and suggestions. Just a word of warning that the story may start to get a bit wibbly-wobbly from now on, as evidenced by this chapter. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

_**October 15th, 2008**_

Jack woke slowly, his mind hazy as it fiercely rebelled against the pull towards consciousness. He groaned softly, his throat tight and dry as he tried to swallow, while a dull painful throbbing made itself known deep within his skull. He felt disoriented and slightly nauseous, and if he hadn't known any better, he might have suspected that he was suffering from a serious hangover.

Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus in the dim, grey light. A wave of panic sliced through him as he realised he had no idea where he was. He bolted upright in the bed, groaning again as the sudden movement caused the pain in his skull to intensify. Surveying the foreign surroundings, he quickly realised he was in a spacious and modern hotel room. He frowned in confusion and rubbed at his eyes, then looked around again. He'd seen the inside of plenty of hotel rooms in Cardiff over the years, but this particular example was entirely unfamiliar.

A pile of clothes that looked like his own had been draped haphazardly over an upholstered chair close to the bed. He glanced down at himself and lifted the bed covers, confirming he was naked apart for his underwear. Clearly he was alone in the silent space – the bathroom door to his left was open, and the room beyond was dark. On the floor beside the bed was a large dark-coloured travel bag along with a worn, light-brown rucksack. He recognised the rucksack as the one he'd owned for decades. He drew in a deep breath, trying to contain his growing unease. Something was very wrong, but his muddled mind refused to provide anything even vaguely useful in explaining his current predicament.

He climbed shakily from the right-hand side of the spacious bed and moved over to the pair of tall windows. Drawing back the curtains of the nearest one, his legs almost gave out from under him as he stared out in open-mouthed shock at the vista of a sprawling cityscape. The bustling city was unmistakeable. He wasn't in a hotel in Cardiff, he was in the middle of London, and he had no absolutely idea how he'd got there.

After staring in bewilderment for a long moment, he slumped back down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He struggled to search his memories, trying to push through the dense fog that continued to linger over his mind. He remembered being in Bute Park late at night, tracking a rogue Weevil. It had caught him off guard and tore open his neck. He'd only barely managed to subdue it before collapsing and bleeding out. He remembered standing precariously on the rooftop edge of the Capital Tower building in the early hours of the following morning, gazing out over a waking city, and feeling utterly alone in universe. He remembered looking up to the heavens and desperately wishing for the Doctor to show up and take him away. For so very long, he'd yearned to escape the confines of planet Earth, to shed the shackles of his responsibilities and travel the stars again.

It had been a little over two and a half years earlier, precisely at the turn of the century, when the rest of the Torchwood Cardiff team had been killed by one of their own. Their leader at the time, Alex Hopkins, had suffered some kind of psychotic break, the actual cause of which Jack had never been able to discover. Alex had said he'd seen something terrible coming, he'd seen a glimpse of a possible future, and he'd decided they were better off dead. The massacre had left Jack alone and in-charge of Torchwood Three, giving him more responsibility than he'd ever wanted, and he'd never felt more lost or lonely. He'd hoped that whatever was coming, he'd be ready.

A terrifying thought occurred to him and he looked down at his bare wrist, then looked up, searching desperately. His eyes settled on the bedside table, its contents now clearly visible. In addition to his Vortex Manipulator, there was a sealed bottle of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a sheet of paper, folded in half. He grabbed his wrist-strap and put it on, reassured by the familiar feel of the worn leather pressing against his skin. After tossing several aspirin into his mouth, he chugged down the bottle of water in several greedy mouthfuls, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. Reluctantly, he picked up the sheet of paper and peered down at the scrawled message that was undeniably in his own untidy handwriting.

_Relax. Everything's fine. There's a recording on your wrist-strap – it will tell you everything you need to know. This is the way it needs to be... a fresh beginning, a new life. This was your choice and yours alone, Jack, no coercion, no outside influence. It's time to stop waiting. It's time to let go of the past. Don't worry about Torchwood, it's in safe hands. Good luck._

The message was signed in his name, his real name, a name he hadn't spoken aloud or even written in well over a century. That name represented a different person, a person he didn't like to think about. But the purpose of using it was clear – it was incontrovertible proof that the note had been written by him, and of his own volition. No one else on the planet or in the current time period knew that name.

A cold sense of dread settled low in his stomach. Hesitantly, he activated his wrist-strap and opened the last recording. A holographic image immediately shimmered to life in the air in front of him. It was an image of himself, sitting at the chair near the bed, and gazing at him with sadness in his eyes. Jack hardly recognised himself – he looked exhausted and consumed with despair, his features drawn and sallow. The gauntness in his face and the unnatural prominence of his cheekbones suggested he hadn't been eating, and judging by his sunken, dull eyes, he hadn't slept for days or maybe weeks. He was looking at a broken and tormented man.

With his heart pounding furiously in his chest, Jack swallowed hard against his constricted throat. He watched anxiously as his holographic counterpart began to speak.

###

He wasn't sure how long he'd sat numbly on the bed after the holographic message had blinked out of existence. He'd immediately checked his wrist-strap to confirm the current date and time, wanting to believe it was all some kind of bizarre, elaborate joke, yet knowing it was terrifyingly real. The recording had been brief and frustratingly vague, but his haunted appearance and the weary defeat in his voice had convinced him that his irrevocable decision had been a desperate act of self-preservation. Willingly choosing to erase over five years worth of memories wasn't something to be undertaken lightly, and it wasn't something he would have considered unless he'd believed there was no other option. That discovery alone would have been enough to send him reeling with shock, but of the several astonishing statements he'd made in the message, it was actually the most benign and readily believable.

Feeling a wave of hysteria threatening to break free, he closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, willing himself to remain calm as he tried to process this new, mind-jarring reality. Opening his eyes again, he spotted the mini-bar on the opposite side of the room and clambered towards it, falling to his knees and crawling across the floor when he legs refused to support his bodyweight. Wrenching the tiny refrigerator open, he grabbed a minuscule bottle of Scotch and downed it in one gulp, coughing violently as the burn hit the back of his throat. Breathing rapidly, he consumed two more bottles – brandy and then vodka he noted absently – before crawling over to his luggage and dumping the contents of both bags out onto the carpet.

For the next few minutes he busied himself with sifting through his belongings. He found a sizeable amount of clothing – several pairs of trousers, shirts, underwear, t-shirts, socks, belts, braces, a few sets of cuff-links, a pair of jeans, black leather dress shoes, and a more casual pair of brown leather shoes. A small cardboard box revealed a beautiful blue and grey silk tie, and he frowned at the incongruous item as he stroked his fingers over the soft, sensuous material. Something prickled at the edges of his mind, a vague impression of a tall handsome man wearing a tailored suit and a silk tie, but as soon as he tried to focus on the elusive image, it faded away, like the lingering remnant of a dream. It was a sensation he knew he'd have to become accustomed to as he tried to adapt. While such an extreme dose of retcon almost guaranteed that the chance of recovering any of his lost memories was negligible, recurrent déjà vu was a common side-effect.

There was no sign of his greatcoat, but his familiar tan boots were present, and he'd noticed a black leather jacket hanging over the chair with the rest of his clothes. He gasped with relief when he found the small, battered metal tin in which he kept photographs from his past. Along with his wrist-strap and his prized Webley, it was his most valued possession, even though he rarely looked at its contents. He'd always tried not to dwell on old, painful memories. There were a few other small trinkets he'd collected over the years, his Webley, some spare ammunition, his shaving kit, and a supply of assorted toiletries.

Lastly, there was a familiar worn, brown leather satchel. As the recording had promised, inside he found all the documentation he'd need to begin a new life, along with a substantial sum of cash. He flicked idly through the various documents, pausing to glance at the balance of one of his several bank accounts. His unnaturally long life combined with relatively few expenses, the magic of compounding interest, and the occasional lucrative investment, had ensured money would never be a problem. He had enough to last for several lifetimes.

But the idea of no longer having a clear purpose was overwhelming to him. Torchwood had been the foundation of his existence for the majority of the last one hundred plus years. The recording had said he'd been away for a little over a year in his personal timeline, but in terms of his memories, he'd been working at Torchwood Three until the moment he'd woken up. Even in his long life, five and a half years was an enormous amount of time to lose without explanation. He suspected he could drive himself insane with obsessing and trying to figure out what might have happened during such a significant chunk of his life.

Drawing a shaky breath, he rubbed his hand over his face. He'd always been adaptable and pragmatic, and he could cope with this, he told himself firmly. He wouldn't have retconned himself if he'd believed he wouldn't be able to cope. After all, he'd arrived on Earth in 1869 with nothing more than the dirty clothes on his back and a burnt out Vortex Manipulator, but he'd managed to get by. The situation this time around wasn't nearly as dire. Plus, the twenty-first century was more civilised and not without its charms. He could adapt and make a new life for himself. With that thought held resolutely at the forefront of his mind, he packed away his belongings, leaving out a fresh set of clothes, then picking up his shaving kit and some toiletries. Pushing himself to his feet, he swayed slightly and immediately regretted consuming alcohol in his condition and on an empty stomach. He staggered into the bathroom.

After a long hot shower, he stood in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist, and surveyed his haggard, troubled features. He looked like hell, and he knew he'd have to start taking better care of himself. Lathering up his face, he began to shave, his mind calming a little with the familiar routine.

He'd almost finished when in his haste, he nicked his chin, causing a bead of blood to appear and begin trickling slowly downwards. Without thinking, he wiped it away with his thumb and finished shaving. After washing off the remnants of the shaving foam, he noticed the small cut continuing to bleed. Watching in curious fascination as the blood trickled down his neck, it took several moments before he realised the tiny tear in his skin wasn't healing. Stumbling backwards, his entire body began trembling uncontrollably and he collapsed heavily onto the tiled floor, his back hitting painfully against the toilet seat. Thick, hot tears streamed unheeded down his face.

Pulling his knees up tightly to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his ankles. Choked sobs tore from his throat, and at that moment he couldn't have said whether his tears were of joy, relief, or despair.

The words of the most shocking of the revelations from the recording echoed repeatedly across his mind. _"__There's something else you need to know. You found him... you found the Doctor. He fixed you."_


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Notes:** Here's the next chapter a little earlier than planned. The early post is in appreciation of everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I was really astonished by the response and hopefully this chapter makes up for some of the confusion the last chapter created! Thanks also to the brilliant Prothrombintime for unwavering feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**_**-**_**One**

_**September 23rd, 2005**_

Ianto gave a shuddering gasp, his chest heaving upwards as his lungs began working to draw oxygen into his body. His eyes flew open and were immediately assaulted by a haze of painfully bright, stark white light. He blinked against the onslaught until his pupils began to adjust, making the blinding glare more bearable.

Blurred shadows moved at the periphery of his vision and he heard the indistinct murmur of insistent voices, the sound seeming very far away. He thought he heard his name being spoken, but then a spasm of intense pain overtook his body, searing like fire across his nerve-endings. He cried out in agony, pressing his eyes closed as the sound tore from his parched, tight throat.

"Ianto!" an achingly familiar voice called urgently, breaking through his jumbled, incoherent thoughts. He felt a warm, strong hand grasp his shoulder. "Ianto! Can you hear me?"

The pain eventually subsided to a dull, bone-deep ache and he risked opening his eyes again. He blinked several more times as his vision slowly began to clear and gain focus. A thumb was rubbing gently over the sensitive skin just above his collarbone, and he tried to concentrate on the comforting sensation. The dark blur hovering over him finally achieved clarity, and his heart clenched as he gazed up into the intense blue eyes he knew so well. Those eyes were peering down at him anxiously, and he was shocked to see they were blinking back silent tears.

"Jack," he managed to croak out, desperately relieved to see the other man. "What... what happened?"

He struggled to move against the hard surface beneath him, trying to reach for Jack as spasms of pain spiked randomly over his body. His hands were trembling badly and his limbs were sluggish and uncoordinated.

An unfamiliar male voice halted his progress and a hand that wasn't Jack's pressed him back down again. Reluctantly shifting his eyes away from Jack, Ianto found an unfamiliar man standing on his opposite side and looking down at him. "Ianto, stay still for a minute or two. Take slow, deep breaths and try to relax, mate. You should start feeling better soon."

"It's okay, Ianto," Jack said in a soft, reassuring tone, gently lifting Ianto's head as something soft was placed under it. "Just relax. You're safe and everything's going to be all right."

Jack stroked the side of his face tenderly. He leaned in and kissed Ianto's forehead, then took his hand, winding their fingers together. Confused and disoriented, Ianto closed his eyes again and tried to focus on his breathing as he'd been instructed. He felt the cold metal of a stethoscope diaphragm being pressed against his chest. Then he heard the hum and soft beeping of one of their alien medical devices – a Bekaran deep-tissue scanner, his mind promptly supplied. He remembered it from when he'd observed Jack using the device on various alien corpses.

Another unfamiliar voice spoke quietly, this time the voice was female. "Jack, are you okay?"

Ianto squeezed Jack's hand, wanting to reassure him that everything was all right, even though he wasn't sure what was actually going on yet. He didn't know why Jack seemed upset, but he hated when Jack was in pain. He heard Jack take a deep, shuddering breath, and then he squeezed Ianto's hand in return, stroking the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. "Owen?" Jack asked, his voice quiet and tremulous. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's going to be fine, Jack," the strange man's voice answered. "Just let me finish this scan, then I'll take another blood sample and run an analysis."

Cold tremors rippled over Ianto's body. Still feeling bewildered and overwhelmed, he tried to calm his confused, racing thoughts. Pushing aside his curiosity about these two strange people working alongside Jack, he fought to cast his mind back. Everything was frustratingly hazy and elusive at first, but then a burst of recollection flooded his consciousness.

He'd been paralysed and sprawled out on the floor of the lift at the Stadium House building, thinking about his life and especially about Jack. He'd been trying to take comfort from his memories of their time together, waiting for the inevitable moment where his body ceased to function. He'd resigned himself to his fate, knowing he was going to die alone.

_The lift doors slid open and an anguished voice reached his ears. "Ianto! No! Oh, no... no, no, no..."_

_Ianto struggled to force his eyelids apart and found Jack on his knees beside him, staring down at him with wide, frightened eyes. His face was splattered with blood and his handsome features were twisted into a mask of misery. "Jack," he struggled to whisper, his vocal chords only barely responding by that point. "Jack... can't... can't move... Hart... poisoned me... I... I'm... I'm sorry..."_

"_Don't speak, save your breath," Jack murmured, reaching forward and caressing his cheek. "Everything's going to be okay, Ianto. I promise."_

_Jack promptly scooped him up from the floor, cradling him against his body and rising to his feet. "Stay with me, Ianto. We need to get you back to the Hub. There isn't much time, but we're going to fix this. Just stay with me, please."_

_Ianto wanted to tell Jack that it was okay, that there was nothing to be done, that it was already too late. He wanted to tell Jack that he loved him, to tell him how much their time together had meant to him. He wanted to know what had happened to John Hart and what he'd done to Jack. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he was trapped inside his unresponsive body and he was utterly helpless. All he could do was try to hold on a little bit longer, no matter how futile it was, for Jack's sake if not for his own._

_Jack sprinted to the SUV, the weight of Ianto's body not seeming to slow him down even slightly. He carefully laid him out along the back seat. "It's gonna be okay," he reiterated, his voice strained and uncharacteristically frantic. "Just hold on for me, Ianto."_

_He gunned the engine and with a deafening screech of the tires, he drove them back to the Hub at breakneck speed. All Ianto could do was stare up at the SUV's roof and hope that Jack didn't have to slam on the breaks and cause his body to crash violently into the back of the front seats._

_By some small miracle they made it back to the Hub in one piece. Jack picked him up again, cradling him carefully against his chest, and ran all the way through the Hub, his boots pounding loudly in the eerie silence. He was panting from exertion but he kept murmuring to hold on and that it was all going to be okay. Ianto wanted to believe him, but he was certain it was too late. He was just relieved he'd been able to see Jack one last time, and he was glad he wouldn't die alone after all._

_Finally they reached the medical bay and Jack set him down carefully on the examination table, pulling off his suit jacket and tossing it aside haphazardly before laying him down on the cold, steel surface. Jack turned away and fumbled around noisily for several moments before returning to Ianto's side with two syringes in his hand. Jack looked down at him and stroked his cheek._

"_Ianto, listen, I'm fairly certain I know what this is. I've seen Hart use it before. But there isn't much time... you're struggling to breathe and it won't be long before your body shuts down. Hart might have an antidote... the problem is I don't know how long it's going to take me to find him. He's probably on the other side of the city looking for the last canister." Jack paused and took a deep breath, looking at Ianto regretfully. He quickly rolled up Ianto's shirt sleeve and picked up one of the syringes. "I need to take some blood from you to analyse, but in the meantime I'm going to put you into cryo-freeze. It's the only way... it'll buy us time and keep you alive until I can get the antidote."_

_Ianto felt a needle puncture his arm, his mind reeling with panic. He'd seen both Tommy and Jack survive the cryogenic suspension process unscathed, but the idea terrified him nonetheless. He tried to rationalise that if it gave him even the slimmest of chance of survival then it was worth it, not that he could object to Jack's plan even if he had wanted to. He was dying anyway, so it didn't really make a difference. All he could do was wait as he listened to the sounds of Jack hurrying to retrieve and prepare one of the a cryo-freeze units._

_It was only a minute or so later and Jack was back at his side, hastily removing his tie and unfastening the top buttons of his shirt. He removed Ianto's watch along with the contents of his pockets, then pulled off his shoes. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you back, Ianto, I promise. Don't worry... it's just like going to sleep... then you'll wake up and you'll be back with me again." Jack leaned down and kissed his forehead, cupping his face gently with his hands. "Remember, you owe me that date we talked about." His voice wavered, catching with emotion. "I'm not letting you get out of that."_

_Jack was looking down at him so intently, his fearful eyes gazing directly into Ianto's. The utter despair in Jack's features was too much for Ianto to bear. He hated that he was causing Jack pain, he hated that he was being forced to leave Jack, and he hated being utterly powerless to do anything about it. He wanted to scream out at the unfairness and injustice of it all. Tears formed in his eyes and slid down his face. He desperately wanted to comfort and reassure the man he loved. Unable to do any of those things, all he could do was continue to gaze up into Jack's anguished face. As much as he was horrified to see Jack so distraught, the doubts he had about Jack's feelings for him vanished in that moment. He knew with absolute certainty that Jack loved him. Determinedly, he held onto that thought with every ounce of his remaining strength._

_With one final stroke of Ianto's face, Jack gently closed over his eyelids, shrouding him in darkness. There was another stab of a syringe as Jack injected him with the cryo-freeze compound. Cold fire surged through his veins as the sound of Jack's voice reached his ears, seeming to come from far away._

"_I'll fix this and I'll be here when you wake up." The raw, undisguised emotion in Jack's voice tore at Ianto's heart. "I'm not letting you go without one hell of a fight Ianto Jones."_

_They were the last words Ianto heard before he lost consciousness and slipped away into the abyss._

Ianto's eyes sprung open again as his mind finished replaying the vivid, painful memories. He looked up into Jack's glistening eyes and surged upwards, pulling at Jack until they were wrapped awkwardly in each other's arms. He buried his face in the junction between Jack's shoulder and neck, breathing in the other man's comforting, familiar scent. "Jack," he murmured, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude as he tried to process the fact that he was alive and that Jack had somehow managed to save him.

"Oh, Gods, Ianto. It worked, I've got you back," Jack muttered, wrapping Ianto in his arms and clinging to him tightly. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, pressing insistent kisses against Ianto's face and hair. "I've been so scared I'd never see you again."

There was the sound of a throat being cleared loudly. "Bloody hell, Jack. Let the poor bloke breathe for God's sake."

Having forgotten about the other two people in the room, Ianto reluctantly pulled away from Jack far enough to turn his head and look at the two strangers standing at the end of the examination table. The thin, dark-haired man was scowling at them, while a beautiful petite Asian woman with glossy swept back black hair was smiling at them widely, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. They were both quite young, appearing to be in their late-twenties.

The man handed Ianto a glass half-filled with water. "Here you go, mate. This should help. Just take small sips."

Ianto nodded and took the glass gratefully, gripping it tightly with a trembling hand. Resisting the urge to gulp down the water, he sipped at it slowly, the cool liquid feeling wonderful as it soothed his dry throat. Jack was still holding onto him tightly, seeming unwilling to let him go for even a moment. He tried to give Jack a reassuring smile.

"Better?" Jack asked as Ianto passed back the empty glass and the dark-haired man put it down on one of the equipment carts nearby.

"Yeah." Suddenly feeling self-conscious with three pairs of eyes scrutinising him so intently, he glanced down to where his unbuttoned shirt had slipped away from his shoulders, the pale skin of his exposed torso looking unnaturally stark under the bright lights of the Hub's medical bay. He quickly pulled the shirt up and covered himself, fumbling as he struggled with the buttons.

"Here, let me do that," Jack said softly, taking over and deftly fastening the buttons, leaving just the top two open.

"Sorry... um, who are you?" Ianto asked, turning his attention back to the two strangers.

"Sorry, Ianto." Jack looked at him apologetically, then gestured at the surly looking man. "This is Owen Harper."

The man huffed. "_Doctor_ Owen Harper, thank you."

"And this is Toshiko Sato, mathematics and computer genius," Jack continued, ignoring the other man's indignant interjection. "Owen, Tosh, this is the one and only Ianto Jones, my second-in-command." He winked at Ianto before adding, "Amongst other things."

Toshiko stepped forward, a warm smile spreading across her face. "It's lovely to finally meet you, Ianto. Jack's told us a lot about you."

Ianto glanced at Jack suspiciously but the other man just gave him an unrepentant shrug. "Toshiko? I've heard about you..."

"I found your file about Toshiko," Jack said, smiling at him. "I knew you wanted help with your Rift predictor idea, so I pulled some strings and got Tosh released and transferred to Cardiff."

Toshiko nodded, smiling shyly. "Jack told me I had you to thank for getting me out of that horrible place and giving me the opportunity to work here."

"It's, ah... it's good to meet you too, Toshiko," Ianto replied politely, although he was confused as to how these people had joined the team so suddenly. While he'd hoped Jack would eventually agree to recruit some extra staff, he'd expected to have a colossal fight on his hands. Something was definitely wrong about all of this.

Toshiko stepped back and Ianto turned his attention to Owen, who gave him a brusque nod. "Good to have you back in the land of the living, Ianto. Just so you know, I'm expecting some of this magic coffee of yours as soon as you're back on your feet. Harkness here never shuts up about it."

Ianto chuckled slightly, although he was concerned about what else Jack might have told them about him. "I'm sure that can be arranged, Doctor Harper."

"Not until you're fully recovered though," Owen warned him. "You're going to be on medical leave until I give you the all clear to come back to work. That alien poison is nasty stuff. There's no permanent damage, but it's going to take time for your body to fully recover." He retrieved a syringe and reached for Ianto's arm. "Now, I need to draw some blood, okay?"

Ianto nodded, his unease over the situation growing rapidly. He held out his arm and turned away, cringing as he felt the needle pierce his skin. He'd always hated needles. He returned his attention to Jack. "Jack, what happened to John Hart? And how long was I frozen for?"

Owen finished drawing the blood sample, putting the vile and equipment on a tray to his side. There was an awkward silence with the three of them looking at each other with obvious anxiety.

"Jack, what's going on?" Ianto asked again, raising his voice and beginning to feel alarmed.

Glancing around properly for the first time, he noticed how much the medical bay had changed. The previously sparse space now looked like a full-blown laboratory, crowded with tables, shelves and carts, almost every surface occupied with all manner of high-tech scientific and medical equipment. A sick feeling started to take hold in the pit of his stomach.

Jack finally broke the tense silence. "Guys, can you give Ianto and me a moment?"

Tosh and Owen nodded and made their way up the stairs and into the main area of the Hub. Ianto watched them until they were out of sight, then turned his gaze back towards Jack. His anxiety was increasing with each passing moment.

Jack sighed heavily. "Ianto, there's no easy way to tell you this. After I put you into cryo-freeze, I found John Hart, but he didn't have the antidote. He still had some of the poison though, so I was able to get a sample of it. I wanted to kill the bastard, I was ready to tear him limb from limb for what he did to you." A flash of intense anger darkened Jack's features. "But he got what he deserved in the end and he'll never hurt anyone again. It's a long story. I'll tell you about it later, once you've had some rest and feel better."

"With no antidote on hand, I had to figure out how to create one," Jack continued. "I couldn't do it myself, I don't have that kind of skill or knowledge." He paused and shook his head, then sat down beside him on the table. "I didn't know what to do, I knew I had to find someone to help. That's where Owen came in. I needed someone to help me develop an antidote from scratch."

Jack took Ianto's hand in his own. "I found Owen in London and I convinced him to move to Cardiff and work for me. He can be a monumental pain in the arse, but he's a brilliant doctor. He's been working on developing an antidote since he arrived here. He's got a lousy bedside manner, but I can't fault his work ethic. He's worked on this tirelessly. Owen's a man who likes a challenge and he never once gave up." He gestured at the plethora of equipment around the room. "All of this, it was all to help you. I made sure Owen had everything he could possibly need."

Ianto nodded slowly, trying to comprehend the enormity of what Jack had just told him. "How long?" he asked in barely a whisper, looking at Jack fearfully.

Jack took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Ianto's hand. "Ten months," he said finally. "You've been in cryo-freeze for a little over ten months."


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Notes:** Here's another chapter, a bit earlier than planned. It turned out longer than I anticipated, but hopefully it's okay. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it's very much appreciated. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and support.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**_**-**_**Two**

_**September 23rd, 2005 (continued)**_

Ianto stroked his hand affectionately over the rough, scaly skin on the underside of Myfanwy's neck. The creature mewled in response, gently butting her beak against his chest.

"Hey, girl," he murmured. "Did you miss me? Has Jack been taking good care of you? He's probably been spoiling you rotten. Hope he hasn't been feeding you too much chocolate. It might be good for your serotonin levels, but I'm not sure the word 'moderation' is in his vocabulary."

With a weary sigh, he sat down on the metal grating of the walkway, crossing his legs and tugging Jack's greatcoat tightly around his body as he shivered violently. Jack had retrieved his suit jacket and after helping him put it on, he'd bundled him up in the greatcoat for good measure. Even swathed in the extra layer of thick wool, he still felt like he had ice water running through his veins. Shivering again, he pressed his nose into the collar and breathed deeply, drawing comfort from the familiar scent of Jack that permeated the wool.

Myfanwy squawked and crouched down next to him, folding in her wings and tilting her head to the side, her large, dark eyes gazing at him.

"He'd never admit it, but he loves you every bit as much as I do," he added, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips.

He looked across to the opposite side of the Hub. Toshiko was sitting at her workstation, staring intently at one of her screens as she tapped away at her keyboard. Owen and Jack were standing at the railing above the medical bay, talking insistently. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he assumed they were talking about him. Jack paused and glanced over at him for a moment, before turning back to Owen and resuming their conversation. Jack had been unnervingly quiet since revealing the length of time he'd been in cryogenic suspension, barely letting Ianto out of his sight since the moment he'd woken up.

He turned his attention back to Myfanwy and stroked her neck again. "It feels like it's only been a few hours since I saw you. But for you and Jack, it's been three-hundred and fifteen days. I've been missing from the world for almost a year." He gave a mirthless, choked laugh. "I missed Christmas. I even missed my twenty-third birthday. I've missed so much. It feels... don't know, it's just... well, everything seems different. Like I've woken up in another reality... somewhere I don't belong. That's something you know all about, huh? You were torn away from the world you knew. It must have been terrifying for you. You've adapted brilliantly though. I suppose that's what I need to do too... adapt."

An intense shiver passed over him again. There wasn't a part of him that didn't ache, his head was throbbing, and his eyes felt dry and scratchy. He couldn't seem to get rid of the dryness in his throat, his otherwise empty stomach churned with nausea, and he couldn't stop shivering. He didn't know if the numb coldness was a side-effect of the antidote combined with the toll of the cryo-freeze process, or if it was entirely psychosomatic. He glanced across at Myfanwy's surprisingly clean looking nest and idly wondered if she'd mind too much if he borrowed it for a while. Despite having just woken up from a ten month long sleep, he couldn't remember when he'd felt more exhausted.

Owen had warned him to expect a slow recovery, and the brusque doctor had given him some painkillers and something to help with the nausea. With orders to go home and rest for at least a week, he'd been guided out of the medical bay by a worried looking Jack and seated on the worn sofa, where Toshiko had been waiting with a warm smile and a mug of hot tea.

He liked Toshiko. She was quiet and unassuming, and she seemed to have a gentle, kind-hearted nature. She was clearly brilliant and fiercely intelligent, but there didn't seem to be any ego or arrogance about her. He'd also noticed how tidy and organised her work area was, and he thought that boded extremely well for her character. Although the Hub looked in dire need of a thorough cleaning, it hadn't devolved into the cesspool he'd imagined. He wondered if that was due to Toshiko's influence. He wasn't deluded enough to think that his neat, fastidious nature had rubbed off on Jack in any significant way. Jack was, and always would be, unrepentantly untidy. As strange as it seemed, it was just a part of his charm.

He liked Owen too, despite the man's laconic, almost taciturn demeanour, and Jack seemed to be impressed with the Londoner's abilities. The problem was that he didn't know either of them, whereas Jack had been working with them for months and had obviously gotten to know them. He, on the other hand, was as much a stranger to them as they were to him, and he felt like the outsider. Jack had created a new team and he hadn't been a part of that process... Torchwood Three had evolved and moved on without him. The more irrational side of him felt hurt and envious, and maybe a little resentful.

Then there was Jack. In the moments before Jack had put him into cryo-freeze, he'd felt so certain of the depth of the other man's feelings for him. He remembered the terrible look of fear and despair in Jack's eyes. But that had been over ten months ago for Jack, and the man's feelings may well have changed. He knew it would be presumptuous of him to assume they would simply pick up from where they'd left off. Jack may have been with other people... he might have found someone else. In all fairness, he couldn't expect that Jack and his insatiable libido had remained celibate for such a lengthy period of time, just clinging to the slim hope that Owen would develop a cure.

Although he hated the thought of Jack being with anyone else, the idea of Jack being alone and miserable was far worse. Jack was a man who thrived on physical contact and intimacy with another person. Besides, they'd never vowed exclusivity, or talked about being monogamous. He wasn't sure if Jack was even receptive to that level of commitment.

His thoughts drifted back to John Hart's cruel taunts, the words echoing in his mind with horrible clarity. As much as he wanted to dismiss them as the worthless rantings of a deranged psychopath, he couldn't deny that the man had struck a nerve. He could never be enough for someone who had lived several lifetimes and travelled the stars, seeing and experiencing things a humble twenty-first century Welshman from a poor, working-class family couldn't begin to imagine. Even if Jack genuinely loved him, that might never be enough, and he still didn't know what he and Jack were to each other, at least not in any definitive way. None of the conventional terms seemed to fit, and Jack, with his inherent distaste for restrictive, judgemental labels, had never seemed inclined to give what they were a name. Unfortunately, Ianto's twenty-first century mindset was less evolved, and not quite so enlightened.

Too many questions filled his confused thoughts. He wondered what Jack had told Yvonne Hartman about his sudden absence. He wondered if Jack had spoken to Rhiannon, mentally cringing at the thought of his sister and his lover/boss/friend meeting for the first time. He'd missed her birthday he realised, along with David and Mica's as well, and Johnny's too. Possibly they thought he was dead, or had gone missing. Perhaps she knew about Jack, and that he was more than merely her brother's employer. He knew he should call her and let them know he was all right, but he didn't think he could cope with the inevitable tirade of awkward questions in his current state. Dealing with his sister required a degree or calmness and rationality that he definitely wasn't in possession of at the moment. He tried to ignore the stab of guilt as he decided that another day or two wasn't going to matter. He'd buy her something nice as a belated birthday gift, offer up twenty quid or so to both his niece and nephew, give Johnny a bottle of whisky, and all would be forgiven. He just wished everything else could be resolved so easily.

He smiled sadly at Myfanwy. "Well, whatever happens, I've still got you, yeah?" She shuffled her small legs and responded with a soft, throaty caw-like sound. "I'll never forget that night I found you," he added, thinking back wistfully to the life-altering events of that evening.

Myfanwy nudged his shoulder and he gave her another affectionate rub. She stared back at him for a moment, then launched herself into the air, screeching loudly as she spiralled upwards. He watched as she soared gracefully around the upper reaches of the Hub's atrium, the sight a welcome distraction from his fatigued body and troubled mind. Even with all the time he'd spent caring for the displaced reptile, he'd never failed to be captivated by her.

"Hey, you okay?"

Ianto looked up with a start, surprised to find Jack standing at his side and looking down at him with a concerned frown. Ianto slowly eased himself up and onto his feet, gratefully taking Jack's outstretched hand as his sluggish muscles protested against the effort. "Honestly, I'm not sure," he replied, trying to manage a wry smile as Jack continued to hold onto his hand.

"Come here." Jack tugged him closer, wrapping him in his arms and drawing him into a firm embrace. Ianto slumped against him, sliding his arms around Jack's waist and holding on tightly. He pressed his cheek against Jack's, enjoying the sensation of the smooth, warm skin pressed against his own.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask Jack, so many things he thought he needed to say, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with the answers. So he chose to remain silent. For the moment, all he wanted was the comfort of being close to the other man.

Jack pulled back and looked into his eyes. He took Ianto's face in both hands, kissing his lips tenderly. "I've missed you, Ianto," he whispered, then kissed him again.

The sincerity and longing in Jack's voice touched him deeply. Lost for words, he simply kissed Jack in return, allowing their lips to linger together before easing back.

He reached up and stroked his hand through Jack's thick hair, smiling softly. "We've got quite a bit of catching up to do. Over ten months of coffee and sex alone," he murmured, trying to keep his tone teasing and hoping it masked his underlying insecurities.

Jack chuckled. "I'm liking the sound of that. As soon as you've recovered, we can start making up for lost time." He grinned slyly. "Don't worry, I promise I'll go easy on you."

"Always the gentleman," Ianto quipped, a flare of hope blossoming in his chest.

"Always," Jack agreed, his grin widening. Then his expression faltered. "Ianto, you know those aren't the only things I've missed, right?"

"I know," Ianto replied softly.

A look of relief passed across Jack's features. He ran his hands down the lapels of the greatcoat, straightening them over Ianto's chest. "It looks good on you."

Ianto smiled, flattered by Jack's praise. "I've always loved this coat." A fierce shiver shuddered through him, and his legs wavered unsteadily. He pressed his eyes closed, waiting for the unpleasant sensation to pass.

"Still cold?" Jack asked, gripping Ianto's arms to support him.

"Yeah," Ianto admitted, tentatively opening his eyes again. "Can't seem to get warm."

"Okay, how about we get you home and into a nice hot bath. That should help." Jack wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders and slowly ushered him back towards the main work area.

Ianto nodded gratefully. "Okay. Take me home, Jack."

###

After receiving firm orders from Owen to rest, drink plenty of fluids – excluding coffee, much to Ianto's dismay – eat some proper food, and not undertake any strenuous activities, they'd departed from the Hub. Owen had added that he'd be checking on Ianto in a day or so, and he hadn't failed to offer some disparaging comments about the stubbornness of Welsh people along the way. It was an indication of the extent of Ianto's fatigue that he hadn't attempted a scathing retort. Meanwhile, Tosh had offered a sympathetic smile, telling him to let her know if he needed anything.

With the remark about strenuous activities, Owen had looked at Jack suspiciously, and Ianto had averted his eyes, feeling a rush of embarrassment colour his features. He wasn't ashamed of being with Jack, but he wasn't used to having other people know about them, especially his two brand new co-workers. Having Tosh and Owen know from the outset that he was sleeping with the boss didn't seem like the most auspicious of beginnings. He didn't want them to think he would be getting any preferential treatment.

As relieved as he was about the prospect of going home, he wasn't relishing the state it would be in after ten months of neglect. So, as Jack had opened the door and guided him inside, he was surprised to find the apartment clean and as neatly arranged as always. After Jack had helped him to take off the greatcoat and hang it up, he turned towards the other man and looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked as he toed off his boots.

Ianto gestured vaguely around the open space. "Jack, you're brilliant at many things, but cleaning definitely isn't one of them."

"True," Jack agreed with a chuckle. "While I should probably be offended by that remark, even I've got to admit I'm rubbish when it comes to cleaning. There's a local girl who cleans some of the other apartments. I organised for her to keep your apartment clean until you were back." He paused and frowned. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Oh." Ianto was momentarily taken aback, not just by Jack's thoughtfulness, but also by his apparent conviction that he would actually be coming home again. "Yeah... yeah, of course. Um, thanks."

"I restocked the refrigerator yesterday with a few essentials," Jack continued. "But I'll get anything else you need. Just write me out a list when you feel up to it."

"Oh," Ianto repeated, still astonished. "All right."

Jack smiled reassuringly. "Come on, let's get you into the bath and warm you up." He steered Ianto determinedly towards the bathroom. With Ianto struggling to stay upright, Jack held him in a firm grip, half-walking, half-carrying him. "If you behave yourself, I'll even wash your hair for you."

###

Ianto pulled the bed covers up over his shoulders and curled up on his side. It seemed strange to be tucked up in bed at lunchtime on a Friday, but he was too tired to care, and the soft cocoon of his bed was impossible to resist. The room was sufficiently dark to be conducive to sleeping, Jack having pulled the curtains closed and leaving the door just slightly ajar.

Jack had been painstakingly attentive with undressing and bathing him, and under different circumstances Ianto might have felt mortified to simply sit in the bathtub while everything was done for him. But the languid soak in steaming hot water had began to dispel the bone-deep cold, and he appreciated Jack's efforts. After helping him to dry off, Jack had dressed him in a pair of pyjama bottoms, and helped him into bed.

Jack had then produced scrambled eggs, toast and tea, insisting that Ianto consume them before going to sleep. Jack had sat beside him on the bed, watching him intently until the plate was finally empty. Although he hadn't felt particularly hungry, he'd tried to humour Jack as best he could, grateful of the gesture.

He looked up as Jack entered the room again and came to a standstill at the end of the bed. There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly Jack was stripped down to his underwear and sliding under the covers. He wrapped himself around Ianto and held him tightly.

Startled, but not unhappy about having Jack in his bed, Ianto managed to tilt his head back and look into Jack's eyes. "I thought you'd be going back to the Hub?"

"Tosh and Owen can keep an eye on things. They'll call if anything comes up." Jack paused, looking at him uncertainly. "It's okay if I stay, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Ianto replied, kissing Jack's shoulder.

The desire to succumb to sleep was almost overwhelming, but there was one particular question that continued to twist uncomfortably in Ianto's mind. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he did.

"Jack," he murmured, trying to decide how to best approach the awkward subject. "Ten months... it's a long time for two people to be apart..." He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. He settled his head on Ianto's shoulder, his arms tightening around Ianto's waist. "But you're back now and you're going to be fine, that's all that matters."

Ianto took a steadying breath. "It's just that... well, I need to know... and it's okay, I won't be upset or anything... it's just..."

Jack lifted his head and frowned at him. "What is it, Ianto?"

Ianto sighed and forced himself to meet Jack's curious gaze. "While I was gone... was there anyone else?"

"Oh." Jack just looked at him for a long moment, apparently considering his response. Ianto wondered if he'd imagined a flicker of guilt pass over the other man's features.

"It's okay, Jack," he assured him quickly. "I know it was a long time to be on your own, and after all, a bloke has needs..."

Jack pulled away, rubbing his hand over his face and looking distressed. He sat up on one elbow and looked down at him. "No, Ianto. There hasn't been anyone else. I couldn't, not while you were... not that I would have wanted to anyway..." He reached for Ianto's face and stroked his cheek. "I wanted you back, that's all I wanted. I only wanted you."

"Oh," Ianto said, momentarily speechless.

Jack scratched his thumb gently over Ianto's stubbled chin, then took his hand away. "There was one time when I almost..." he began, then stopped, seeming reluctant to continue.

"Almost?" Ianto prompted uncertainly.

Jack breathed out a sigh. "It was a month after I'd put you into cryo-freeze, about two weeks before I found Owen. I'd been trying to find someone to help, but I kept running into dead ends. I had to be careful, and I couldn't trust Torchwood One. When I reported what'd happened to you to Hartman, she wanted to transfer you back to London. I couldn't let that happen, I needed to keep you safe." He paused for a moment. "I'd been trying to come up with an antidote on my own, but it was beyond me, and the poison was different to the one I'd seen before." He paused again and looked at Ianto with regret in his eyes, then took a deep breath. "I'd been run off my feet with the Rift for a week and one night I ended up in a pub, feeling sorry for myself. I'd drank too much and there was a cute guy who was coming on to me. I was tempted, but I couldn't... I couldn't do that to you..." He stopped again as his voice broke.

"It's okay, Jack," Ianto murmured, realising how much Jack had suffered, and how terrible and lonely it must have been for him.

He'd been so caught up in his own confusion and sense of displacement, he hadn't stopped to think about how much the situation had affected the other man. Jack was the one who had actually lived through these past ten and a bit months, while he'd been blissfully unaware. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been on your own," he added gently.

Jack just shrugged his shoulder in response. "So, I stayed at the pub and kept drinking until they threw me out," he continued a moment later, apparently needing to finish the story. "Eventually I got myself back to the Hub. I sat with you all night and talked to you." His expression became uncharacteristically self-conscious. "It was hard at first because I didn't know what to talk about, but it helped. I did that a lot while you were gone."

Ianto's heart felt heavy in his chest as he imagined Jack sitting alone in the morgue night after night. He silently reached for Jack and pulled him close, blinking back the moisture from his eyes.

"I would have done anything to get you back," Jack muttered against the skin of Ianto's neck. "And I never would have given up on you. I need you to know that."

"I know," Ianto murmured, his throat tight with emotion. He found Jack's mouth and kissed him tenderly.

He realised that Jack's actions said so much more than mere words could ever convey. Although neither of them were good at talking about their feelings or making heartfelt declarations, knowing what Jack had gone through to save him seemed so much more meaningful. As startling and difficult as it was to believe, he could no longer doubt that he'd managed to capture a piece of Jack's heart, as Jack had captured his.

"Jack," he said softly, resting his head on the other man's chest and holding onto him. "If things had been the other way around... if it had been you who'd been poisoned... if you weren't the way you are... if you'd been dying and wouldn't have come back... I would have figured out how to save you. I'd have never given up on you either."

He felt Jack's hand grasp his and curl their fingers together. Reassured that Jack understood the meaning behind his words, Ianto closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to drift into sleep.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Notes:** Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Special thanks to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback, encouragement and support.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**_**-**_**Three**

_**September 23rd, 2005 (continued)**_

Ianto woke to a darkened room, groaning softly as he rolled onto his back and stretched out his sore, aching limbs. A surge of panic pulled his sluggish mind to alertness and he jerked upright, blinking as he glanced around the shadowy space. Then, remembering where he was, he exhaled a deep shuddering breath. Looking at the bedside clock, he was surprised to discover almost ten hours had passed, the time just after ten-thirty in the evening. He could barely hear the soft, indistinct murmur of the television through the closed bedroom door.

Slowly, he climbed out of bed, groaning again as his body protested. His balance wavered and he closed his eyes, waiting for the light-headedness to pass. When he was reasonably confident he wouldn't topple over, he blindly dug out a t-shirt from the wardrobe and struggled to pull it on, then padded into the bathroom.

After using the toilet, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and was shocked by the pallid, drawn face looking back at him. His blue eyes were grey and lifeless, and the thick, dark stubble adorning his face combined with his unruly hair was a far cry from his usual meticulously groomed appearance. After a half-hearted attempt to flatten out his uncooperative locks, he splashed some water on his face and dried it off, sighed wearily, then made his way into the living room.

Jack was sprawled on the sofa, his legs up, and dressed in just his trousers and white undershirt. He looked up from the television as Ianto approached, flicking it off and swinging his legs down to make room. Ianto slumped down beside him, grateful to be off his feet again.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jack asked, resting his hand on Ianto's knee and rubbing gently.

"Bit better," Ianto mumbled, tilting his head to look at the other man. "I look like hell though."

"Better than the alternative," Jack said, with obvious false cheer. He pulled Ianto close, kissing his cheek. "Anyone would look a little rough around the edges after what you've been through. Don't worry, you'll be back to your gorgeous self before you know it."

"I suppose," Ianto agreed non-committally, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. "What were you watching?"

"Star Trek," Jack replied. "Thought I'd try some contemporary science-fiction. I hadn't seen any of these newer ones. It's not bad, actually. They're not that far off the mark with some of the technology either."

"I used to watch Next Generation when I was a teenager. Was a bit obsessed with it." Ianto paused, thinking back to the collection of well-worn video tapes he'd eventually thrown away. The tiny second-hand television and video recorder he'd had in his cramped upstairs bedroom had been his only escape from the misery of his life back then. "Always wondered what it would be like to fly around the galaxy in a starship."

"You'd make a very sexy starship captain, especially in one of those red uniforms." Jack's voice was teasing and light-hearted. "And I could be your second-in-command."

Ianto snorted. "And you'd cause a diplomatic incident on every planet we visited. Leaving me to rescue you and clean up your mess."

Jack laughed. "Sounds like my kind of fun."

"Do you miss it, Jack?" Ianto asked hesitantly, lifting his head and looking into Jack's eyes as he again recalled John Hart's taunting words. "Up there, travelling the stars?"

"Yeah... sometimes." Jack sighed, resting his head back against the cushions and gazing up at the ceiling. "There's so much wonder out there, Ianto. I wish I could show it to you. I bet you'd love it. But there are plenty of worse places to be than twenty-first century Earth." He shifted his gaze back to Ianto, smiling affectionately. "Besides, it's not without its charms."

Ianto nodded, returning Jack's smile as he indulged himself for a moment in the fantasy of travelling with Jack, exploring the wonders of the universe together. As ridiculous a notion as it seemed, he could almost believe it might happen. Just about anything seemed possible with Jack. The irony of his musings wasn't lost on him, given how little of his own planet he'd had the opportunity to see.

"Feel like something to eat?" Jack asked, suddenly changing the subject. "There's some vegetable soup I can heat up. Seven different vegetables it says on the tin." A mischievous twinkle crept into his eyes. "Sounds good, huh?"

Ianto scrunched up his face in revulsion. "Um... no."

Jack chuckled. "I've missed that."

"What?" Ianto asked in confusion.

Jack grinned at him. "The adorable way you screw up your face when I try to get you to eat vegetables."

Ianto huffed indignantly. "It's not adorable."

Jack's grin grew wider. "I've missed that adorable little huff you do too."

Ianto scowled, narrowing his eyes. "Is there anything I do that you don't find adorable?"

"Not really," Jack replied, looking entirely unapologetic. "Although, I could do without your snoring when I'm trying to go to sleep. And you always rub your cold feet against my legs."

"I do not," Ianto retorted defensively. "And I don't snore either."

"Yeah, you do. It'd kind of cute though." Jack chuckled again, causing Ianto's scowl to deepen. "Are you going to roll your eyes at me? 'Cause I've missed that too."

"Actually," Ianto answered calmly. "I was wondering if I had the strength to punch you."

"I tend to have that affect on people. They can't decide whether to punch me, kiss me, or shoot me." Jack shrugged. "It's all part of my charm."

"So I've noticed," Ianto remarked dryly, thinking back to the bar where they'd met John Hart and mentally cringing at the memory.

Jack leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Okay, I'll have the vegetable soup. I also got some of that chicken noodle one you like."

"I am a bit hungry," Ianto admitted, now that vegetable soup was off the menu.

Jack rose to his feet. "Right, stay there and I'll get it ready."

Ianto turned on the television again and resumed Jack's DVD, watching with a sense of nostalgia as Jack pottered around loudly in the kitchen. Soon enough, he returned with two steaming bowls of soup. He put them down on the table, with plates underneath Ianto was relieved to note, and passed Ianto a spoon and a paper napkin as he sat down again, which Ianto unfolded and neatly tucked into his collar. They continued to watch Star Trek as Jack noisily consumed his soup, with Ianto eating his more sedately.

"Sure you don't want some?" Jack asked, waving his half-empty bowl under Ianto's noise. "It's really good."

"Think I'll stick with the chicken noodle, thanks," Ianto muttered, determined not to let Jack get a rise out of him, but enjoying the comfortable familiarity of their banter, and pleased to see Jack in good spirits.

Jack grinned and returned his attention to the television.

It was a few minutes later, after their bowls were empty and the episode had finished, that Ianto decided he needed to ask one of the questions at the forefront of his mind. "Jack... John Hart, what happened to him?"

Jack closed his eyes for a long moment. Finally he opened them again and met Ianto's gaze. "He's dead. Stupid bastard got himself blown up. Not that he didn't deserve it."

Ianto felt his eyebrows lift upwards of their own accord. "How? I was searching the office, and you went up to the rooftop. What happened after that?"

Jack didn't reply immediately, appearing reluctant to continue. Not relenting, Ianto just looked at him steadily, until finally he sighed and nodded.

"I was on the roof looking for the canister. I'd just found it when John showed up. He gave me a spiel about going with him and travelling the stars together. The guy never could take no for an answer. I lost my patience and tossed the canister off the edge of the building. They weren't radiation cluster bombs by the way, but I'll get to that. Anyway, he wasn't too happy about me rejecting him and throwing away his precious canister... he caught me by surprise and pushed me over the edge." He paused, a pained look contorting his features. "Not my favourite way to die, plummeting two hundred feet to the ground, but it's not the worst."

"Shit," Ianto said succinctly, his chest tightening as his mind conjured up the horrendous image of Jack falling to his death.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, letting out a small, choked laugh. "As soon as I came back, I went looking for you. It took me a while to revive and I was terrified he'd done something to you in the meantime. That's when I found you in the lift. You know what happened after that."

Ianto nodded. "And after you froze me?"

"Okay, so I was about to go and hunt him down, when he showed up at the Hub. He had my wrist-strap... he must have taken it from me while I was dead. He was able to walk right in." Jack smiled tightly. "Suffice to say he was surprised to find me alive."

"He didn't know you can't die?" Ianto asked curiously.

Jack shook his head. "No. What happened to me was after the last time I'd seen him."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully and waited for Jack to continue.

Jack took a deep breath. "I threatened to shoot him if he didn't give me the antidote, but he didn't have it. The bastard didn't show an ounce of remorse for what he'd done to you, not that I expected he would. We struck a deal – in return for me not killing him and letting him finish what he'd come here for, he was going to get me the antidote. I knew I couldn't trust him, but I didn't have a choice."

He paused, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Everything he told us at the bar was a lie. The woman he'd known had an Arcadian diamond, it's priceless and very rare... the rarest gem in the Damascene Cluster. He'd killed her so he could steal it. The canisters contained pieces of a device that he thought was going to lead him right to the diamond. But the woman had out-smarted him. The device was actually a bomb and designed to latch onto the DNA of her killer... as soon as John assembled it, it attached itself to him and activated with a ten minute countdown."

"How did you stop it?" Ianto asked, not in the least surprised that Hart had deceived them.

"It would have destroyed half the city, and there was no way to remove or disarm it. Anything I might have tried would have triggered it. So, I did the only thing I could think of... I knocked him out and took him back to the rooftop of the car park where he contacted us. The Rift fracture he'd arrived through was still active. I threw him and the bomb into the Rift and it contained the explosion." Jack paused again, looking chagrined. "I took his wrist-strap before I sent him into the Rift, but he'd modified it... installed a fail-safe. Because my DNA wasn't a match, it self-destructed as soon as I tried to use it. I'd lost any chance I had of getting the antidote to save you."

Ianto nodded slowly as he processed Jack's narrative. "I know he was... that he meant something to you... but I can't be sorry he's dead. Apart from what he did to us personally, he put the whole city at risk."

"Neither am I, and he brought it on himself." A dark look clouded Jack's face, then he looked at Ianto earnestly. "What I once had with him, it wasn't good, it was... well, convenient I suppose. We took what we needed from each other, but I never felt for him what he claimed to feel for me. Like I said to you that night, I'm not proud of the person I was back then." A look of deep remorse filled his features. "I'm sorry, Ianto."

"What for?" Ianto asked in astonishment.

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "It was all my fault. I should have protected you, made sure John Hart never got anywhere near you. I knew what he was capable of. You almost died because of me."

Ianto suddenly realised the depth of Jack's guilt over the incident, and it tore at his heart as he imagined Jack tormenting himself for those ten long months. He knew all too well that Jack was a master of self-recrimination. "It's not your fault, Jack," he said sincerely.

"Yes, Ianto, it is," Jack insisted, lowering his gaze.

Looking at Jack sadly, Ianto wanted to convince him that he wasn't to blame, but he knew it would be a futile endeavour. He knew Jack well enough to understand that the man would need to work through and assuage his guilt in his own way.

Eventually Jack looked up at him again. "What did he say before he tried to kill you?"

Ianto shrugged. "Nothing much, he was just ranting about things... the ravings of a psychopath. Didn't mean anything."

"Tell me, please." Jack's expression was determined. "I need to know."

Ianto closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. "He said he wanted you back," he said reluctantly. "That the two of you were going to travel the galaxy again. He said I could never compete, that I could never be enough for you... that I was just a distraction... an amusement."

"That despicable bastard," Jack growled, his face contorting with anger. He placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder and looked intently into his eyes. "Ianto, you know none of that's true, don't you?"

Ianto nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He wanted to believe that Jack wouldn't leave if presented with the opportunity, but he wasn't sure if he could. He doubted anything Jack could say would erase that fear completely.

"This is my home now," Jack continued emphatically. "I'm not going to leave the planet or abandon Torchwood, not as long as I'm needed here." He paused, drawing a deep breath. "And I'd never abandon you."

"Even if the Doctor shows up?" Ianto blurted out before he could stop himself, then froze in horror as his brain caught up and he realised what he'd said aloud.

Jack's eyes widened with obvious shock and he reeled back, his hand abruptly falling away from Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto felt his stomach lurch with fear. Silently cursing his stupidity, all he could do was stare dumbly at Jack as he wondered what in the hell he'd just done.


	34. Chapter 34

**********Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for very much appreciated feedback, encouragement and advice. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty_-_Four**

_**September 24th, 2005**_

Jack stared at Ianto incredulously. "What? How do you know about..."

"Yvonne Hartman," Ianto replied tersely, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. He forced himself to hold Jack's gaze, knowing there was no going back now. "She showed me a photograph taken in 1941. A photograph of you... you and a young blonde woman... and the Doctor." He paused and took a deep, steadying breath. "Why didn't you tell me, Jack? Were you a companion?"

The air seemed thick with tension and Jack didn't respond, he just turned away and stared across the room, avoiding Ianto's eyes. Finally, he nodded slowly. "I travelled with the Doctor for a while. I first met him in 1941 during the Blitz, that must have been when the photograph was taken. I didn't know there was any record of me being associated with him, and I've never told anyone. I couldn't risk taking the chance. It was all a long time ago, over a hundred and thirty years in my time-line. The Torchwood charter established in 1879 declares the Doctor as an enemy of the Crown, but they got it all wrong, he's never been a threat to the planet. He's saved the world more times than anyone knows." He turned to face Ianto again and looked into his eyes. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be in a position where your loyalty was divided... I didn't want you to have to make a choice between me and Torchwood."

"You didn't trust me," Ianto countered, unable to quell the anger and hurt rising up within him. "Did you think I'd betray you if I knew the truth?"

"No, I trust you, Ianto," Jack said insistently. "Admittedly it took me a while to get there, but I trust you more than I've trusted anyone in a very long time."

Abruptly, Jack stood up and paced across the room, clearly agitated. Ianto feared he was going to walk out, but after several anxious minutes he returned to the sofa and sank down onto it again. Visibly distressed, he took a deep breath. "I just... it's not easy for me... I'm not used to having someone I _can_ trust. It's not an excuse but..."

"She blind-sided me," Ianto murmured, his hurt and disappointment causing his voice to waver. "She showed me that photograph and she was gloating because I was taken completely by surprise. There I was defending you... telling her there wasn't a better person to run Torchwood Three. I had to find out from Yvonne Hartman that you were a former associate of Torchwood's number one enemy. I suspected they were wrong about the Doctor, but that doesn't change the fact that you put me in an untenable position."

Jack dragged his fingers through his hair, seemingly having to force himself to meet Ianto's eyes again. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not saying it was the best decision I've ever made, but I thought it was for the best that you didn't know."

"It hurt, Jack," Ianto said, his voice little more than a whisper. "It hurt to think you didn't trust me. I thought we were past that."

"We are," Jack said firmly. "If I'd known that Hartman knew anything, I would have handled it differently. I would have made sure you were prepared. I'm sorry you had to find out like that, it's not what I wanted." He looked at Ianto with pleading in his eyes. "Surely you know I'd never want to hurt you?"

"I can understand why you didn't tell me," Ianto conceded, aware that he was avoiding answering Jack's question. "And I'm not trying to take the moral high-ground here... it's not as if I've ever been particularly forthcoming about my past either."

"We've both got our fair share of painful history. The only difference is that mine's longer and I've had more time to come to terms with most of it." Jack paused, appearing lost in thoughts. "Ianto, I don't expect you to talk about things from your past that you don't want to... it's what we have in the here and now that matters to me." Pausing again, he looked at Ianto with a searching expression. "Is this why you seemed distant after you came back from London?"

Ianto nodded ruefully, relieved that at least it was out in the open at last. "I wanted to talk to you about it, but I didn't know how... and the longer I left it, the harder it became." He eyed Jack curiously and after debating with himself, he asked the next logical question. "Is it because of the Doctor that you can't die?"

"Yes," Jack replied, surprisingly without hesitation. "Well, at least I think so. I was with him when it happened. I died, then I woke up, and he was gone. I've been like this ever since."

"Will you tell me the whole story?" Ianto asked, his voice tentative. "I think I've earned that much."

Jack looked at him doubtfully. "Sure you're up to it? You're not too tired?"

Ianto shook his head. "I'm fine."

Jack continued to look uncertain for a long moment, but finally gave a decisive nod. "I'm gonna need a drink first." He stood up again. "And I'll make you a cup of tea."

He made a hasty retreat to the kitchen and Ianto watched him, waiting anxiously. He hadn't intended to confront Jack, but they'd needed to clear the air, especially after what they'd both been through. He just hoped it wouldn't have a detrimental effect on their relationship.

When Jack returned, he set down a steaming mug of tea in front of Ianto, then slumped down on the sofa again, a glass and a bottle of Scotch in his hands. It didn't escape Ianto's notice that Jack was keeping some distance between them. He watched as Jack poured himself a generous measure and tossed it back, repeating the process twice more before finally putting down the empty glass and letting out a heavy, weary sigh.

"For six months I travelled with the Doctor and Rose Tyler," he began. "It changed me, made me want to be a better man. The Doctor does that, he brings out the best in people, helps them to see their true potential, makes them realise they're bigger on the inside." He chuckled slightly. "And for the first time in almost as long as I could remember, I was actually happy. I felt like I'd finally found a place where I belonged. Rose was like the kid sister I never had, and the Doctor, well... he was something else entirely."

"Did you and he...?" Ianto asked cautiously, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Jack shook his head. "No, nothing ever happened between us. Not that I didn't want it to, but he never seemed interested. He's kind of above all that, but it was obvious that he loved Rose, and she loved him. They were kindred spirits. As for me... well, I loved them both." A sad, wistful smile crept across his face, then slowly faded. "Then everything changed. We arrived on a satellite orbiting Earth in the 2002nd century, the year 200,100..."

After recovering from the initial shock that Jack was describing events that were going to take place over 198,000 years in the future, Ianto sipped his tea and listened intently. Jack recounted the tale of their arrival on Satellite Five, followed by their eventual discovery that the Daleks had rebuilt their race by harvesting genetic material from humans. Ianto had read about the emotionless cyborg monsters known as Daleks during his time at Torchwood One, and Jack explained that their empire had been destroyed in what the Doctor had called the Last Great Time War. The conflict had resulted in the destruction of both the Doctor's race and the Daleks, leaving the Doctor as the last of his kind. Jack described how he'd tried to convince the humans on the satellite to stand with him to fight the Daleks as they invaded the station. He added that the Doctor had sent Rose back home to twenty-first century Earth to keep her safe.

Jack stopped and poured himself another drink. He took a mouthful, then rested the glass on his knee and stared down at it. "A Dalek killed me, I'm sure it did. Then I woke up, and I watched as the TARDIS dematerialised. All the Daleks and their ships were destroyed, all the humans on the station were dead except for me, and the Doctor was gone." He tossed back the rest of his drink, putting the glass down on the table. "You already know the rest... I used my Vortex Manipulator to travel here to the early twenty-first century, but I overshot and landed in 1869."

Ianto frowned in confusion. "But why would he leave you behind?"

"I don't know," Jack said, his voice laced with bitterness. "Maybe he thought I was dead. Perhaps he just didn't care... decided to be rid of me while he had the chance."

Ianto shifted closer to Jack. He reached for Jack's hand, half-expecting him to pull away. Relieved when he didn't, he took Jack's hand in his own and held it tightly. "I'm sure that's not true," he said insistently.

Jack didn't look convinced. "He sometimes uses the Rift to refuel, that's why I came here, to wait for him to show up again. Someday I'll find him... ask him what happened... and get him to fix me."

"Do you think he can?" Ianto asked quietly. "Reverse what happened to you?"

While he knew that Jack thought of himself as cursed and wrong, he wondered how easily Jack could give up his unique ability after living with it for such a long time. Jack was disturbingly cavalier about dying, regularly putting himself in danger, and Ianto wasn't sure how well he'd adapt to having just a single life to live once again. The reason that Jack had been able to operate Torchwood Three single-handedly as effectively as he had was largely due to his ability to cheat death. If that was no longer the case, everything would have to change. Even with their two new additions to the team, it wouldn't be enough.

"I have to believe he can. If he can't..." Jack trailed off, shaking his head emphatically as if trying to banish the unwelcome thoughts from his mind. "No, he'll find a way, he has to. I can't... I can't go on like this forever, Ianto. I can't. I'll go insane."

Ianto pulled Jack into his arms and held him, not sure what to say, but trying to offer what little comfort he could, no matter how inadequate. Jack laid his head on Ianto's shoulder and took a shuddering breath, his entire body trembling. "Jack, thank you for telling me," Ianto murmured into his ear.

Jack pulled back far enough to look into Ianto's eyes. "You know more about me than anyone else ever has. I need you, Ianto. I know I can't have you with me forever... that our time together is terribly limited, but having you in my life..." He reached up and teased his fingers through Ianto's hair. "I need you," he repeatedly softly.

Touched and reassured by Jack's words, Ianto traced his fingertips down the side of Jack's face and kissed him tenderly. Jack kissed him back and they simply held onto each other in a tight embrace.

It was several minutes later when Jack was suddenly rising to his feet and tugging Ianto up with him. "There's something I want to show you."

"What is it?" Ianto asked, his curiosity piqued, and startled by Jack's sudden change in mood.

"It's in the bedroom. Come on." Jack led him to the bedroom, flicked on the light, and moved over to the wardrobe. He pulled out a black suit bag that Ianto hadn't seen before and held it out to him. "A belated birthday present."

"Jack, you didn't need..." Ianto began to protest.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. "I wanted to. See if you like it."

Ianto took the bag from Jack, laid it out on the bed, and carefully unzipped it. He removed the suit from inside, gasping softly as he brushed his fingers over the sumptuous, finely woven fabric. It was almost black in colour, just a shade or two lighter, and the material had a subtle, textured stripe. He looked at the tag and was startled to find it bore the name of the local tailor he'd purchased several bespoke suits from previously.

"I picked out a shirt and tie to go with it," Jack added, putting a white, rectangular cardboard box down on the bed and removing the lid to reveal a deep red shirt and a matching red silk tie accented with grey and silver stripes. He put his arm around Ianto's waist. "Do you like it?"

"Jack, it's beautiful," Ianto whispered in awe, overwhelmed by the gesture. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"I was hoping you'd wear it for our date," Jack said, his voice unusually soft and tentative. "Once you've recovered, that is."

Ianto carefully put the suit down and turned to smile at Jack. "Of course I will."

He was rewarded with a gentle but breathtaking smile that seemed to light up the room.

###

Ianto woke the following morning as a warm hand gently but insistently stroked his shoulder. Blinking drowsily, he rubbed at his bleary eyes and tried to work out where the intrusion to his sleep was coming from. "Jack?" he mumbled thickly.

"Hey." Jack was kneeling beside the bed, fully dressed, and looking down at Ianto with a fond smile. "You okay?"

"Mmm," Ianto replied, groaning as a wave of vertigo passed over him and struggling to disentangle his uncooperative limbs from the bed covers.

"Don't get out of bed, just stay there." Jack leaned closer and adjusted the pillows, allowing Ianto to shift awkwardly into a semi-upright position.

Feeling groggy and disoriented, Ianto cast his mind back to the later part of the previous evening. After watching a couple more episodes of Star Trek, they'd both fallen into bed a little after two in the morning. Their conversation about first John Hart and then the Doctor had been emotionally exhausting, but as he'd fallen asleep in Jack's arms, he'd felt as if a weight had been lifted from between them. He'd spent too much time thinking about the past, both Jack's and his own, but finally he felt ready to concentrate on the here and now.

"I have to go to work, but I made you some breakfast." Jack pulled back and gestured at the bedside table where Ianto saw a bowl of porridge and a glass of orange juice. Jack passed the glass to Ianto, who took it gratefully and sipped at the cool, refreshing liquid.

"You didn't have to do all this," Ianto protested, shivering slightly and tugging the covers up over his bare chest with his spare hand.

"I wanted to," Jack said firmly. "And there's bread and strawberry jam if you want to make yourself some toast later. Now, I want you to take it easy, and if you need anything, give me a call. I've also added Owen's and Toshiko's numbers to your phone. If you can't reach me, you can call either of them, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Ianto muttered.

Jack growled low under his breath. "Don't start 'sir'-ing me or you'll get me all riled up. Owen would have me strung up by my balls if he found out you've been overexerting yourself, and I don't think either of us want that." He grinned cheekily, but then his expression turned serious again. "You need to rest and get your strength back, Ianto. Owen said you need to give your body time to recover, and I trust his judgement in this." His eyes narrowed in warning. "Don't you dare think about doing any cleaning. And if you try to sneak into the Hub to visit Myfanwy, I'm going to be very unhappy with you. She'll be fine without you for a few more days. All right?"

"Fine," Ianto grumbled petulantly. He took another sip of juice before putting the glass down on the table.

"Good. Now, eat your breakfast. There's enough food for you to make some lunch, and I'll bring dinner and some more supplies tonight." Suddenly, Jack looked uncertain. "That is, if you want me to come back? I don't want to presume... I mean, it's okay if you don't."

"Of course I do," Ianto said with complete sincerity. Apart from wanting to spend time with Jack, he didn't relish the thought of spending a night alone at the moment. He'd half-expected to have nightmares after his ordeal, and he suspected it was only Jack's presence that had kept the darker imaginings of his subconscious at bay. "You're always welcome here, Jack. You don't have to ask."

Jack smiled softly. "Thank you." He reached forward and stroked his fingers along Ianto's heavily stubbled jawline. "I don't think I've seen you this scruffy before. It's..."

"Don't you dare say it, Jack," Ianto said in a warning tone, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"What?" Jack asked, looking a little too wide-eyed and innocent.

"You were going to say a certain word starting with the letter 'A'."

Jack pouted dramatically. "You spoil all my fun." He scratched his thumb over Ianto's chin, sliding his hand down to caress Ianto's shoulder, before finally pulling away and breaking contact. "I like seeing you like this, that's all. I'm allowed to say that, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are," Ianto agreed, unable to stop a small smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jack moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll ask Owen to stop by later this afternoon to check on you."

"Jack..." Ianto began to protest again.

"Ianto, please, I need to do this." Jack looked at him beseechingly. "Just let me take care of you until you're back at work."

Realising that he'd hurt Jack if he protested further, Ianto stifled any remaining objections. "Okay," he said simply.

The relief in Jack's eyes was unmistakeable. "I'd better go," he said with a sigh as he stood up. "I'll see you later. Remember, call if you need anything." He turned and began walking towards the bedroom door.

"Jack?" Ianto called after him.

Jack stopped and turned back, looking at him curiously. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Striding back to Ianto's side of the bed, Jack leaned in, placed his hand on Ianto's cheek, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome, Ianto. Now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

With that Jack was gone, leaving Ianto to roll his eyes affectionately as he reached for his bowl of porridge.


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who has so generously reviewed. And special thanks to the amazing Prothrombintime for invaluable suggestions, feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**_**-**_**Five**

_**September 24th, 2005**_

After eating his porridge, Ianto slid back under the bed covers and dozed peacefully for a few more hours. While he felt a twinge of guilt for being so hedonistic, with nowhere to go and nothing urgent to do, he decided he might as well make the most of the enforced downtime.

It was just after noon when he woke again. Yawning heavily, he crawled out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Almost losing his balance, his shoulder banged painfully into the door frame, causing him to curse under his breath as he rubbed distractedly at the abused flesh.

After a long, hot shower, then shaving and brushing his teeth, he felt a little more like himself, and he was relieved to see a tiny bit of colour had begun to return to his naturally pale Welsh skin. He dressed in an old pair of well-worn jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, then made himself some tea and toast. By the time he'd reached the sofa as he nibbled on his toast, he already felt tired from his minimal exertions. His mind active despite his body's fatigue, he retrieved his favourite Bond films from his DVD collection and sprawled out on the sofa for an indulgent afternoon in the company of his beloved fictional super-spy.

He was half-way through his second film when the apartment's buzzer sounded. Scowling in irritation at the interruption, but knowing who the visitor would be, he turned off the DVD and rose unsteadily to his feet, groaning as his stiff muscles protested against the sudden movement. A couple of minutes later he was opening his front door to find himself face-to-face with the surly countenance of Dr. Owen Harper.

Ianto offered up a polite smile. "Hello, Owen. Come in."

Owen nodded curtly in reply. "Ianto." He stepped inside and Ianto closed the door behind him. "I'm not in the habit of making house calls, I want you to know," he muttered, glancing around the apartment before looking back at Ianto. "So don't think I'm going to be making a habit of this."

"Sorry," Ianto said contritely. "I would have been happy to come to the Hub, but Jack..."

"Yeah, Jack wouldn't let you." Owen waved his hand in dismissal. "Not you fault, mate. I'm not sure how you put up with that boyfriend of yours, he's a bloody pain in the arse most of the time."

Ianto froze and cringed inwardly, his entire body tensing up with Owen's casual use of the word 'boyfriend'. Owen frowned and looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Me and Jack," Ianto muttered. "We're not..." He stopped awkwardly, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

He and Jack weren't 'boyfriends', but as he tried to find an appropriate word for what he and Jack actually were, he realised yet again that he was at a complete loss. There didn't seem to be a word invented yet that described his and Jack's strange, complicated relationship. Although, he couldn't deny that Jack had been acting awfully boyfriend-y that morning. Nor could he deny that he'd enjoyed it, and the idea of him and Jack being something permanent and definable sent a surge of warmth through his chest. "We're..." he tried again, then sighed with confusion. "We're not like that."

Owen looked at him sceptically. "Yeah, whatever. Look, the less I know about yours and Jack's weird love life, the happier I'll be."

Ianto couldn't help cringing again, feeling a flare of heat rise up his cheeks. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he quickly admonished himself for being ridiculous. Owen and Toshiko knew that he and Jack were involved, he'd come to terms with his feelings for Jack, and he now felt confident in Jack's feelings for him. He had nothing to be embarrassed about, he told himself firmly.

"Come on, let's take a look at you." Owen made his way over to the sofa, shrugging off the rucksack from his shoulder as he began digging into its contents. "Shirt off and lie down."

Complying with Owen's request, Ianto removed and neatly folded his t-shirt, stretched himself out along the sofa, tucking one of the cushions behind his head, and tried to relax. For the next ten minutes, he silently endured being thoroughly prodded, poked, and scanned. When Owen was finished, he sat up again, pulled his t-shirt back on, and watched patiently as Owen scribbled down some notes from where he'd perched himself at the other end of the sofa.

"How are you feeling overall?" Owen asked, looking up at him.

"Exhausted. Weak. Achy," Ianto answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Bit of nausea on and off. Some dizziness. Headache that comes and goes."

Owen nodded and made some more notes. "Sounds about right. It's going to take time for your body to sort itself out. You're also a bit anaemic. And some of your vitamin levels are lower than they should be." He pulled two bottles of tablets from his bag and put them down on the coffee table. "Iron supplements and high-potency multi-vitamins. One of each every morning. Drink plenty of water, avoid coffee and alcohol for the next few days, and make sure you eat properly. You're underweight too, so you need to eat more."

"All right, I'll try," Ianto agreed placidly, knowing that he'd lost weight since his trip to London, the emotional upheaval having had a deleterious affect on his appetite.

He couldn't help smiling to himself though, recalling Jack's assessment of Owen's lack of bedside manner. Personally, he appreciated the acerbic doctor's abrupt, no-nonsense approach. He'd rather that than be coddled unnecessarily. "Owen," he said sincerely. "Thank you... for saving me."

"Just doing my job, mate," Owen replied casually, but looking pleased nonetheless. "Actually, I probably should be thanking you."

Ianto raised an enquiring eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Jack hasn't told you about me, has he?" Owen asked, sighing heavily.

Ianto shook his head in confusion. "No. Just that he found you in London, and that he convinced you to come and work for him."

"Well, you'll find out sooner or later so I might as well just tell you." Owen rubbed at the back of his neck, then slumped down on the sofa, his cocky, gruff demeanour suddenly falling away, and replaced with an expression of unrestrained anguish. "I lost someone... my fiancé... her name was Katie. She died a bit over six months before Jack found me. It was a brain tumour, rare, aggressive, and inoperable." His voice broke and an angry, scornful look passed over his features. "I'm a bloody doctor and there was nothing I could do to save her."

Ianto felt his eyes widen in horror, immediately feeling a surge of compassion for the other man. "Oh, God. Owen, I'm sorry."

"I was a mess after that," Owen continued, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Everything was wrong and I didn't think I could go on without her. Anyway, Jack found me, said he needed a doctor to help him save someone important to him, and he offered me a fresh start in Cardiff... a chance to do some good he said. I had nothing to lose, so I thought what the hell. I left London and my old life behind and didn't look back." He gave a small, wry chuckle. "The first day I arrived at the Hub, I thought I was having a mental breakdown. Thought I'd walked onto the set of some science-fiction show from the telly. I'd only been there for two minutes when that pet dinosaur of yours tried to bite my bloody head off."

"She probably just wanted to say hello," Ianto said distractedly, still reeling from Owen's revelation of his tragic past. Owen couldn't have been more than about eight years older than him, and far too young to lose the person he'd loved and had obviously planned to build a life with. "Or maybe she wanted some chocolate," he added. "She's a sweetheart, really."

Owen snorted. "You're as bad as Jack. He's been doting over that crazy bird like a mother hen since the day I arrived. He was always sitting and talking to her, telling her you'd be back soon to take care of her."

Ianto swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. "She means a lot to us," he murmured, more to himself than to Owen.

Owen shook his head, looking at Ianto as if he needed his head examined. "Jack told me I could make a difference, help to save lives," he continued after a moment, becoming sombre again. "He told me about you and what he wanted me to do. I thought he was completely barmy, but like I said, I didn't have anything to lose. And in the end, he was right. I was able to save you, and doing that reminded me why I decided to become a doctor in the first place... I thought if I could save a life, mine would be worthwhile. But there's always more lives to be saved, and it never seems like enough." He paused, obviously struggling to contain his emotions. "But it's what Katie would have wanted... she'd have wanted me to keep trying to save as many lives as I can. Jack reminded me of that." There was steely determination in his brown eyes. "So that's what I'm going to try to do."

Ianto found his admiration of Owen increasing by the moment. "I'm glad Jack found you," he said quietly. "Not only because you saved me," he hastened to add. "But because... well, it sounds like he saved you too."

"Yeah. I guess he did." Owen's tone softened and he looked thoughtful. He fixed Ianto with a steady gaze. "Word of advice, mate. Don't make my mistake. Don't think you've got all the time in the world." He shrugged nonchalantly, but Ianto suspected it was merely a feigned attempt to appear aloof and indifferent. "You seem like a good bloke, Ianto. And even though Harkness can be an arrogant, pretentious git, beneath it all, he's a decent bloke too. It's obvious he thinks the world of you. He almost lost you, and I know what that feels like. Wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." He sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway, I'm just saying, make the most of it, make every day count. Especially with this job and all the weird shit we're exposed to... you never know what might happen... who knows what's going to come through that bloody Rift next."

Ianto nodded, Owen's words echoing his own sentiments. He'd been given a second chance and he didn't want to waste it, nor did he want to look back someday on his time with Jack and feel burdened with regrets. "It... er... it doesn't bother you that me and Jack..."

"What? That you're gay, or that you're shagging the boss?" Owen asked bluntly.

"I'm not gay," Ianto retorted fiercely before he could censor himself.

"Hate to break it to you, Ianto," Owen said in a matter-of-fact voice. "But if you're shagging Jack, you're not straight either."

Ianto wanted to protest further, but he knew Owen was right. He breathed out a heavy sigh. "No, I suppose not."

"Look, whatever you want to call yourself, it doesn't matter to me. Whatever floats your boat, that's what I say. If Jack makes you happy and he's who you want to be with, then what the fuck does it matter what anyone else thinks?" Owen's eyes narrowed. "If anyone gives you a hard time about it, tell them to mind their own bloody business and fuck off."

Ianto couldn't help chuckling at Owen's colourful repartee. "No, it doesn't matter," he agreed emphatically after a moment. "It's just that... until now I haven't had to think about how other people see me... how they see me with Jack."

"Well, the world's always going to judge you. Most people who see you and Jack together are going to assume you're both gay." Owen shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing you can do about that, you're just going to have to deal with it. Jack's worth it though, isn't he? Because if he's not..."

"Yes, of course he is," Ianto replied without hesitation.

Owen gave him a disparaging look. "Then get the fuck over yourself for God's sake."

Ianto frowned, indignation rising in his chest. He forced himself to take a deep breath, sighing once more and knowing that Owen was right, yet again. The wiry doctor seemed to have a refreshing but equally annoying habit of attacking the heart of a given matter with brutal, unapologetic honesty. "You're right, Owen. I'll try."

"Jesus," Owen muttered, shaking his head. "Didn't know this job was going to include being a part-time relationship counsellor."

Ianto let out a choked laugh, unable to help himself. "Thanks, Owen."

"Yeah, no worries. Any time you need someone to talk some sense into you, just give me a yell. One thing I guarantee is that I'll always give it to you straight." Owen grinned. "No pun intended."

Ianto rolled his eyes, but matched Owen's grin with one of his own.

"God knows, I spent enough time talking to you when you were in cryo-freeze. You were a great listener, by the way," Owen continued, giving Ianto a small, self-deprecating smile. "Guess I got used to talking to you."

Ianto was startled by Owen's admission, but also touched by his unexpected honesty. Knowing he'd been a sounding board for Owen's grief, albeit a blissfully unaware one, somehow made his ordeal seem less disturbing. "Well, I've never been much of a talker, but I've always been a fairly decent listener," he quipped, amused by the strange irony of the situation. "And same for me, Owen... if you ever want someone to talk to." He chuckled weakly. "As long as you don't mind that I can talk back now."

For a moment Ianto thought Owen was going to unleash a sarcastic retort, but then he seemed to think better of it. "Yeah... um, thanks, Ianto," he muttered awkwardly.

Ianto knew it was time to change the subject. "I'd offer to make you a coffee but I'm out of beans. Once I'm back at work, we'll go to the pub and I'll buy you a pint, yeah?"

"Sounds good, mate," Owen replied, his features relaxing. "Something else you should know about me is that I never turn down a free drink."

###

After Owen had departed, Ianto decided there was one other conversation he couldn't put off any longer. Retrieving his phone, he took a deep breath and steeled himself as he dialled the number. He paced anxiously as he waited for an answer.

"Hello?" a harried female voice asked.

"Rhiannon, it's Ianto. Just calling to let you know I'm back."

"Bloody hell, Ianto! We thought you were dead," Rhiannon screeched down the line, sounding almost apoplectic. "What the hell were you thinking, buggering off like that? No phone call, not even a bloody postcard. What we were supposed to think? Just that boss of yours calling and telling me you'd decided to run off to God knows where. And why is your boss American? You never told me that..."

Ianto endured his sister's relentless tirade for several minutes, cringing as he held the handset away from his ear. Jack had filled him in on the cover story that he'd needed some personal time, and had decided to travel for a while, finally ending up in a remote mountain village in Nepal, working as a United Nations volunteer. Ianto had rolled his eyes at that, but he'd agreed that it was as good an excuse as any, and better than the alternative of telling Rhiannon the truth. Apart from anything else, his sister wasn't particularly known for her discretion.

"Look, I know. I'm sorry," he eventually managed to interject. "I just needed some time to myself. How are Mica and David? And Johnny?" he asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

His ploy worked for a minute or two, but then she was back to ranting at him and demanding that he come and visit, or alternatively, that she'd come to see him. Thinking quickly, he lied that he'd come down with the flu on his return. Ignoring his guilt over compounding the deception, he tried to convince himself that it was at least a vague approximation of the truth.

"My doctor says I need to rest for at least a week. But as soon as I'm better, I'll come and visit, I promise." Rhiannon began a fresh wave of outraged protestations. Unable to endure any more, Ianto forcefully cut her off. "I have to go. Sorry. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

Quickly disconnecting the call, he put down the handset and slumped onto the sofa, cursing under his breath. Suddenly the idea of moving to a remote village in Nepal sounded quite appealing, he thought ruefully, assuming he could take Jack with him. While he felt guilty for lying to his sister, almost being killed by Jack's psychotic ex-boyfriend was hardly his fault, and he knew it was better that Rhiannon didn't know the truth. Not that Jack would sanction the disclosure anyway.

Wearily scrubbing his hand over his face, he grabbed the remote and resumed his DVD, gratefully losing himself once more in the world of James Bond.

###

"So, how many Bond movies did you watch today?" Jack asked later that evening, around a mouthful of sweet and sour pork.

"What makes you think I watched any?" Ianto countered, looking up from his plate and trying to maintain an innocent expression.

Jack raised an eyebrow, looking at him sceptically.

"Well, maybe one," Ianto admitted, quickly turning his attention back to his food. He was trying to make an effort, but he wasn't feeling particularly hungry.

"Just one, huh?" Jack asked teasingly.

Ianto sighed. "Maybe a bit more than one."

"So, how many then?" Jack asked again, grinning when Ianto stole another glance at him. "You know I'm not going to give up until you tell me."

"All right... three," Ianto muttered, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth.

Jack threw his head back and laughed. "You're an addict... a Bond-aholic. I hope I'm not going to have to find you a support group to help wean you off your excesses. You know, there's a twelve-step program for people like you."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I was having a Bond marathon, Jack. Three's the minimum." He huffed indignantly. "Anyway, there's no such thing as too much Bond."

"If you say so," Jack said, continuing to laugh and giving Ianto's shoulder a playful nudge. "Jones... Ianto Jones. I'm a Bond-aholic," he said stoically, lowering the pitch of his voice and giving a terrible impression of Ianto's Welsh accent.

Ianto couldn't help chuckling, in spite of himself. It felt good to laugh again.

A companionable silence settled between them as they continued eating. It was a few minutes later when Ianto spoke again. "Owen told me about his fiancé," he said quietly, thinking back to the medic's visit and subsequent disclosure.

"Yeah, I thought he might," Jack said with a sigh. "I didn't say anything because it wasn't my story to tell." He shook his head sadly. "It's tragic, both of them so young, just starting their lives together. Owen was in pretty bad shape when I found him... angry, bitter... lashing out at the world. I think he might have been thinking about ending it all. He needed a reminder that there was something worth living for, that he could still do some good in the world. He's a brilliant doctor."

Ianto nodded in agreement, glad that at least something good came out of the John Hart situation. "You saved him, Jack."

"And he saved you," Jack murmured, his expression pensive.

"I suppose there's a sort of balance to that," Ianto said thoughtfully. "I'm glad he's joined us. And Toshiko. Bringing her into Torchwood saved her too."

"That was you, Ianto. I wouldn't have known about her if not for you. And she's brilliant too, a fine addition to our new team." Jack shovelled some more food into his mouth. "When you come back, I want you to train them both."

"Really?" Ianto paused, his fork half-way to his mouth. He looked at Jack in astonishment.

Jack nodded. "I've taught you pretty much everything I know, and it will give you a chance to get to know them. I gave them both some basic weapons training when they started, but that's as far as we got. I didn't want to distract Owen from working on your antidote, and Toshiko's priority has been the Rift Predictor. So I'll leave the rest up to you. Neither of them are field ready, but we need them to be." He rested his hand on Ianto's denim-clad knee. "I've made it clear to both of them that you're the senior officer after me, and that they take their orders from you in my absence. Tosh will be fine. Owen might grumble, but he'll toe the line."

"Thanks, Jack," Ianto said solemnly, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." Jack squeezed Ianto's knee affectionately, then returned his attention back to his almost empty plate. "I know it will be different now, and I'm going to miss it just being the two of us, but you were right about needing to expand the team."

Ianto nodded. "I just... I feel like I've missed out on so much... that everything's moved on without me."

"It's not going to be easy, having to catch up with the world." Jack paused, an increasingly familiar flicker of guilt passing over his features. "But it's going to be fine and I'll help you. Trust me, okay?"

Ianto nodded again, giving Jack a small but grateful smile.

"Anyway, enough shop talk. What do you want to do tonight?" Jack put down his empty plate and wiped his mouth.

"Actually I was thinking that we could... have an early night?" Ianto asked hopefully.

"Nope. Sorry, Ianto." Jack shook his head emphatically. "Not until you've fully recovered."

Ianto frowned. While he knew he wasn't up for anything too strenuous, there were still plenty of things they could still do together. "But... we could..." he tried.

"No, not happening," Jack interrupted, his tone unyielding. "And you don't know how much willpower it's taking me to resist you. But we need to wait a bit longer." He leaned in and gave Ianto a brief, almost chaste, kiss. "You understand, right?"

Ianto sighed dejectedly. "I suppose."

"I'll make it up to you soon, I promise," Jack said, giving him another quick but tender kiss. "So, what do you want to do? And I seriously can't believe I'm saying this, but it has to be something that involves keeping our clothes on."

"Well... if you won't have sex with me... then we're watching a Bond film." Ianto gave Jack a triumphant smirk, telling himself he wasn't being in the least bit vindictive.

Jack replied with a despondent groan.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to the brilliant Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and support.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

_**October 1st, 2005**_

Ianto gazed at himself critically in the bathroom mirror. He adjusted his already perfectly knotted tie, smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket, and tugged at his shirt cuffs. Frowning at a wayward tuft of his dark brown hair, he coaxed it back into place. He dabbed on more aftershave along his jawline, cursing as he fumbled with the bottle and spilled a copious amount over his fingers. Rolling his eyes at himself, he put the bottle away and quickly washed his hands. Deciding he'd better quit while he was ahead, he made a hasty retreat from the bathroom, having already spent far too long on the extended version of his usual grooming regiment.

He glanced anxiously at his watch, then noticed a tiny scuff on the tip of his otherwise immaculately shiny black leather shoes. Scowling and muttering under his breath, he hurried into the kitchen, retrieved his shoe cleaning kit from the cupboard beneath the sink, and began rubbing furiously at the offending mark. When his shoes finally met his approval, he neatly packed away the shoe cleaning supplies, then washed his hands again. He began pacing the length of the living room.

It had been a long, interminable week. Although Jack had spent as much time with him as the demands of Torchwood allowed, including staying over almost every night, boredom had quickly set in during the daytime. Even his beloved Bond films had begun to lose their appeal by the fourth day, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, least of all Jack. And while he'd had the pleasure of Jack sharing his bed, they hadn't yet resumed their sexual relationship. To say he was feeling frustrated would have been a monumental understatement.

Fortunately, he was feeling better physically, and he'd been overjoyed when Jack had taken him out for lunch the day before. They'd sat together on the steps of the Plass, eating fish and chips, and chatting companionably, Jack stealing chips whenever he thought Ianto wasn't looking. He smiled affectionately at the memory. And although their stroll around Mermaid Quay afterwards had quickly fatigued him, he'd finally felt like he was re-entering the world again. He was due to return to work on Monday, and he was eager for his life to finally return to normal, or at least the warped reality that passed for normal when working for Torchwood. At the moment, however, his thoughts were occupied elsewhere.

_The Date_. To his chagrin, he'd even begun capitalising the word in his mind, just as he'd done when he'd written his thoughts about the anticipated occasion in his diary earlier that day. He was going on a proper date with Jack... in public and in an actual restaurant... where the food wouldn't consist of take-away or a home-cooked meal. He was undeniably excited by the prospect, but more than a little terrified too. Being with Jack in a public setting, where it was obvious that they weren't merely friends or colleagues, was new and uncharted territory.

Thinking about Jack invariably invoked a maelstrom of complex emotions, many of which remained frustratingly difficult to define. But at the forefront of those feelings was deep affection and an undiminished longing to be close to the remarkable, captivating man.

Jack had touched his soul in a way he hadn't known was possible... Jack made him smile and laugh... Jack made him happy. Jack had brought more happiness, and admittedly more confusion, to his life than he'd ever before experienced. And although the intensity of his feelings for Jack continued to astonish him, it hadn't come as any great surprise when he'd realised he wanted to spend his life with Jack, however long that might turn out to be. Realistically, he knew it wasn't possible for them to have anything so long-term – he knew fate or circumstances would eventually tear them apart – but he couldn't imagine not wanting to be with Jack. It was a simple and undeniable fact that Jack was a part of him now, and it was a part he never wanted to lose.

A sharp knock on the door startled him from his reflections. His heart pounding in his chest, he took a deep breath to steady himself, then strode over to the door and opened it.

The sight that was revealed rendered him utterly speechless. With his mouth hanging open in surprise – and he suspected, rather unattractively – he stepped back to allow Jack across the threshold, distractedly closing the door behind him.

"Wow!" Jack produced a wide, beaming smile, his face lighting up as his eyes raked over Ianto from head to toe. "Ianto, you look absolutely gorgeous."

Ianto continued to stare open-mouthed at Jack, too distracted to register the man's familiar flattery. "Um, Jack," he began, swallowing hard and finally recovering his ability to speak. "You're... uh... you're wearing a suit."

"Yup, what do you think?" Jack held his arms out and spun around in an ostentatious manner. "Not bad, huh? I got your tailor to make it for me at the same time I ordered yours."

Ianto couldn't tear his eyes away. Jack looked spectacular in the tailored, medium-grey suit, and the accompanying sapphire blue shirt enhanced the twinkling depths of his expressive eyes. A coordinating blue and grey striped silk tie completed the outfit to perfection. Jack could have easily passed for a film star or a world-class model, and as Ianto stared at him appreciatively, he felt simultaneously awestruck and a little bit self-satisfied. It still didn't seem possible that he'd managed to capture the affections of such a devastatingly beautiful man. Realising he'd stopped breathing, he inhaled deeply, struggling to regain his composure as Jack's words finally registered.

"You bought yourself a bespoke suit just for our date?" he asked incredulously, stammering slightly over the words.

"I know how much you love my coat, but it's not really suitable for a romantic dinner." Jack circled around Ianto, examining him intently from every angle. He leaned in close to Ianto's left ear from behind. "Besides, I couldn't have you outclassing me, could I?" he murmured seductively. "That would hardly be fair."

He moved around to face Ianto and trailed his fingertips down the lapel of Ianto's jacket, warmth and admiration radiating from his blue eyes. "So, do you like your suit?"

"I love it, Jack," Ianto replied, his voice strained as shivers of desire coursed along his spine.

Enthralled by the other man's appearance, he wrapped his hand around the back of Jack's neck and pulled him close, capturing his lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Jack cradled Ianto's face with both hands, kissing him back without hesitation.

It was only by summoning all of his willpower that Ianto finally managed to pull away. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed by his momentarily loss of dignity. Seeing Jack dressed in a stunning, impeccably tailored suit was having a strange, overpowering effect on him.

A delighted grin spread across Jack's face. "If that's the response I get, I might have to start wearing a suit more often. So, do I have the Ianto Jones seal of approval?"

Ianto nodded. "You're very handsome," he said admiringly, a self-conscious smile tugging at his lips as he ran his eyes over Jack once more.

Jack's grin shifted into a soft, intimate smile. "Shall we go?" he asked, opening the door and holding out his hand.

Ianto slid his hand into Jack's, grasping it firmly. "Yep, let's go."

###

The restaurant was contemporary but intimate, with soft lighting, and spectacular views out across the bay. They were seated at a secluded table beside a window overlooking the water, the setting unquestionably romantic. Ianto hadn't been able to stop himself from glancing around furtively at the other patrons as he and Jack had been ushered to their table by a young, dark-haired waiter. He glanced nervously at Jack after they were seated, and was relieved when Jack gave him a gentle, reassuring smile.

Ianto began studying the menu, feeling his eyes widen as he saw the exorbitant prices. During his time with Lisa, their meals out had mostly been of the cheap and cheerful variety. He'd never eaten at an expensive, up-market restaurant like this before.

"Nervous?" Jack asked.

"A bit," Ianto admitted, looking up from the menu.

"Yeah, me too."

"Really?" Ianto asked, unable to hide the astonishment from his voice.

Jack nodded self-consciously. "It's been a long time since I've done this. And I've been waiting for almost a year to have this chance with you. I want tonight to be special."

Ianto reached across the table and took Jack's hand, squeezing it lightly. "It already is, Jack."

Their waiter reappeared, enquiring if they'd like to order some drinks. Ianto gave Jack's hand another squeeze before pulling away. "A bottle of wine?" Jack suggested, smiling. "What would you like, Ianto?"

"Er... red? Perhaps a Merlot?" Ianto suggested hesitantly, feeling a bit out of his depth.

Jack nodded and looked up at the waiter. "A bottle of your best Merlot, please."

"Jack," Ianto murmured, leaning in closer after the waiter had moved away. "That will cost a small fortune in a place like this."

Jack shrugged his shoulders, looking unconcerned. "It's only money. Besides, I'm pretty sure you're worth it." He gestured at the menu in Ianto's hands. "Order whatever you like, okay?"

It occurred to Ianto for the first time that Jack was probably quite wealthy. After all, he'd been working for Torchwood for over a hundred years, and from what he'd observed, Jack lived a simple, frugal existence, seemingly unconcerned with material possessions. Jack had never talked about money, but with their new suits and the expensive restaurant, their evening together was costing Jack a substantial amount. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. It was a lovely, generous gesture, but Jack didn't have anything to prove, not anymore.

"You've must have built up quite a nest egg over the years," he remarked, trying to sound casual.

Jack looked up from his menu and gave him a teasing grin. "Why, Ianto, are you sizing up my assets?"

"I think you'll find I've already done that, Jack," Ianto replied smoothly, with a sly smile. "Many times in fact."

Jack laughed. "If you play your cards right, you might have the chance again very soon." He became serious again. "But to answer your question, it's not something I've ever had to worry about. Since Torchwood recruited me, I've always had more money than I needed."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. He didn't care if Jack was penniless or the wealthiest man in Wales, but it was another reminder of Jack's very long life and the great chasm of time that would always divide them.

The waiter returned with their bottle of wine, filling their glasses after Ianto had tasted it, Jack having deferred to his judgement. They ordered their food, both choosing seared scallops for an entrée, Jack deciding on salmon for his main course, while Ianto chose fillet steak.

"How long has it been?" Ianto asked once they were alone again. Jack frowned, looking confused. Ianto added, "Since you last did this? You said it's been a long time."

"Ah. A few decades or so," Jack replied easily, taking a sip of his wine. "Mmm, that's very nice."

"Oh." Ianto tried to conceal his surprise at Jack's startling admission. He hadn't thought of Jack as someone who took the time to go on dates, the demands of Torchwood notwithstanding, so it didn't really surprise him as much as it probably should have. He idly wondered if anything about Jack could truly shock him anymore.

He picked up his glass and gulped down a mouthful, appreciating the rich, fruity flavour. He realised Jack was staring at him with an expression of fond curiosity. "What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.

"Nothing," Jack replied, shaking his head. "I was just thinking it's amazing that I haven't managed to scare you off yet. You seem to take everything I tell you in your stride. Not many people could do that." He smiled softly. "You're a remarkable man, Ianto."

Ianto felt a flush of warmth creep up his cheeks, and although he wanted to protest, something about the intense look in Jack's eyes held him back. "Guess I'm not an easy bloke to scare off," he quipped lightly.

"No," Jack said seriously. This time it was Jack who reached across the table, brushing his fingertips lightly over Ianto's palm, then stroking the inside of his wrist. "No, you're not. Luckily for me."

Ianto smiled in reply. Their entrées arrived and Jack began eating with his usual enthusiasm, making appreciative noises. Ianto neatly sliced a scallop in two and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched the other man. Studying Jack's handsome, chiselled features in the soft lighting, and admiring the fit of the tailored suit jacket over the man's impressive physique, he felt a rush of desire and affection.

The truth was he'd barely been able to take his eyes away from Jack since the evening had begun. He suspected that was probably a good thing, since he'd managed to avoid noticing any disapproving glares or furtive glances punctuated by whispered comments. He thought of Tommy, whose bravery continued to inspire him, and who had never had the opportunity to openly be true to himself. He wanted to honour Tommy by not allowing himself to be affected by the judgements of narrow-minded, prejudiced strangers. Anything less felt like an unforgivable affront to Tommy's sacrifice. He also recalled Owen's sage if ineloquent advice, the medic's words strengthening his resolve. He was proud to be with Jack and he wasn't going to deny it.

Jack paused and took a sip of his wine, giving Ianto an inquisitive look. "What's going on in that enigmatic mind of yours?"

"I was just thinking about something Owen said," Ianto replied hesitantly. "And I was thinking about Tommy."

Jack's face fell and Ianto silently cursed himself for bringing up such a painful subject. "Ah, I see," Jack said quietly.

"Owen... well, he called me gay and I didn't take it very well," Ianto began to explain. A frown darkened Jack's features, and he hastened to add, "It was fine though, we had a good chat about things. He helped me, actually." He paused, smiling sadly. "It's just... I was thinking about Tommy... that what he wanted more than anything was this." He gestured between the two of them. "The chance to live his life... openly and without fear. I have that chance, and it would dishonour his memory not to make the most of it. If people see us together and think it's wrong, I can't do anything about that. Anyway, I don't care. I'm where I want to be. I'm with who I want to be with. I'm not going to hide from that or be made to feel ashamed."

"You really mean all of that?" Jack asked, looking into Ianto's eyes intently.

"Of course I do, Jack," Ianto said firmly.

Jack leaned closer and reached for Ianto's hand again, tangling their fingers together. "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

Ianto rolled his eyes, but gave Jack's hand a gentle squeeze. "Just because I said I don't want to hide, doesn't mean you've got free reign to be inappropriate in public."

Jack laughed. "I like being inappropriate. It's more fun." He grinned suggestively. "Later then?"

"Later," Ianto confirmed, grinning back.

They finished their entrée's and chatted companionably until their main courses arrived. Ianto took a sip of wine as he eyed his steak, realising he was actually quite hungry. He sliced off a neat little cube and put it into his mouth, closing his eyes as he slowly chewed the tender, succulent meat. He opened his eyes again to find Jack staring at him.

"Good, huh?" Jack asked, amusement in his voice.

Ianto nodded. "Mmm, delicious."

"Can I try a bit?"

"Oh, um... all right." Ianto cut off another neat cube and stabbed it with his fork. Forcing himself not to look around self-consciously, he reached forward, allowing Jack to lean in and take the piece of steak into his mouth. He watched avidly as Jack chewed and swallowed.

"That is good," Jack agreed. "This salmon is fantastic too. Want to try some?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Sure?"

"Yep," Ianto confirmed.

They continued to eat but it wasn't long before Ianto found himself staring at Jack once again. Jack stopped eating and looked up from his food. "You can't keep yours eyes off me, can you?" he asked teasingly.

Ianto shook his head in amusement. "I still can't believe you're wearing a suit," he admitted. "You look so different." Unable to resist the temptation to tease Jack a little bit too, he added, "You know... almost like a normal bloke."

"Hey!" Jack scowled, looking outraged. "I think I should be offended by that."

"Oh, no, it was a compliment." Ianto gave him a playful wink. "When I first saw you tonight, it was... unexpected. You took me by surprise."

"A good kind of surprise though?" Jack asked hesitantly, his expression clearing.

"Very good," Ianto assured him.

"You've got quite a clothing fetish, Mr. Jones," Jack said in a thoughtful tone, his expression one of obvious admiration and affection. "It's very kinky. First my coat, now the suit. I'm wondering what might be next."

"Like you can talk, Jack," Ianto retorted, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation. He pretended to look thoughtful. "I don't suppose you've got a black leather jacket lying around somewhere?"

Jack's eyes went wide and he burst into laughter. "No, but it sounds like I need to get myself one in the near future. Actually, I did have one, but that was a long time ago." He looked at Ianto intently, his eyes seeming to glaze over. "I bet you'd look very sexy in a leather jacket though... sexy and dangerous."

Ianto felt himself blush slightly. "I've never owned any leather clothing."

"Well, that's something we definitely need to change," Jack insisted, giving him a lascivious grin before returning his attention to his food.

Ianto gazed admiringly at Jack for another few moments, his nimble mind conjuring up some intriguing possibilities. Then, smiling to himself, he continued to eat his steak.

###

Ianto closed the apartment door behind them and pushed Jack up against it, pressing their bodies together and kissing him fiercely. Jack kissed him back with equal fervour, moving his hands under Ianto's jacket and along his spine.

Fuelled by the desire that had been building all evening, Ianto deepened their kiss, sliding his tongue against Jack's. Jack tasted of chocolate from the decadent mousse they'd both had for dessert, along with coffee and wine. Mixed with the man's own unique taste, it was an intoxicating, irresistible combination.

Achingly hard and straining against the confines of his clothing, he could also feel Jack's arousal pressing against his hip. "Bedroom," he insisted after reluctantly ending the kiss, tugging on Jack's hand.

"You sure?" Jack asked, looking at him worriedly. "Once we start, I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop. And you're not fully recovered yet..."

"I'm sure, Jack," Ianto said firmly, taking Jack's face in his hands and kissing him again. "Come on."

They'd barely crossed the threshold of the bedroom before they were in each other's arms again, kissing frantically.

"Our suits," Ianto murmured against Jack's lips, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the otherwise silent room. "Don't want them getting wrinkled. They're too special." As intensely aroused as he was, he couldn't abide the thought of several thousand pounds worth of bespoke suits scattered in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

He retrieved two hangers from the wardrobe, passing one to Jack. After slipping off his shoes, he carefully removed and hung up his suit, neatly rolling his belt and tie and tucking them into free spaces in his storage cubby, fumbling as his hands trembled with anticipation.

He turned to Jack, who was staring at him with a hungry glint in his eyes, not having moved an inch. "Jack, the sooner you take off your suit, the sooner you can get me into bed."

That spurred Jack into action, and once his suit and tie were safely put away they were kissing again, hands working feverishly to remove their remaining clothing. With shirts, socks and underwear hastily discarded, they tumbled onto the bed, mouths still locked together, hands roaming insistently over bare flesh. Ianto rubbed his straining length against Jack's equally hard erection, relishing every moan of pleasure he elicited from the man beneath him.

Jack rolled them over, his mouth sliding down Ianto's throat, then kissing and exploring his chest. Jack's hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, the man obviously determined to touch, taste, and reacquaint himself with every inch of Ianto's body.

Jack's insistent but tender attentions quickly reduced Ianto to the point of near incoherency. By the time Jack had explored him from head to toe and worked his way back up to his groin, Ianto was moaning and almost delirious with need. Jack looked up at him and smiled – a breathtaking, heart-stopping smile – then trailed his tongue slowly along Ianto's length, taking him into his mouth and sucking on the slick, sensitive flesh. Then Jack licked, nipped and caressed his way up Ianto's torso again, teasing his fingers through the soft, dark hair covering Ianto's chest. He reclaimed Ianto's mouth in a bruising kiss. "Jack..." Ianto whispered pleadingly against the man's lips.

Jack kissed him again before reaching over to the drawer of the bedside table, then shifted them so Ianto was on top again. Jack prepared him slowly and thoroughly, Ianto pushing back against Jack's slick, probing fingers, and shuddering with pleasure as Jack massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him.

"Enough?" Jack murmured, and Ianto nodded in reply. He slowly lowered himself onto Jack, resting his hands on Jack's shoulders and looking deeply into his eyes. He took all of Jack inside him, gasping as he was overwhelmed by the intense sensation. Jack pulled him down into a deep kiss as Ianto began moving his hips.

They established a comfortable rhythm with ease, their bodies seeming to move in perfect harmony. Jack turned them over and switched positions, holding Ianto's arms above his head and thrusting into him with slow, deep strokes. They kissed again, Jack pulling him into a tight embrace, holding onto him as if afraid to let go. He pulled back to meet Ianto's eyes and looked at him imploringly. "Ianto..."

With Jack still inside him, Ianto held Jack against his chest and prepared him gently, mindful of how long it had been for the other man. "Okay?" he asked when he thought Jack was ready.

"Yeah." Jack nodded and pulled out, leaving Ianto with an immediate and acute sense of loss. He pushed up into Jack, moaning as the man's tight heat surrounded him. Jack began moving up and down, taking Ianto in deeper, a rapturous expression on his face, his eyes never shifting from Ianto's.

They rolled over again, Jack's legs wrapping around Ianto's waist as they continued moving together, silently finding their rhythm again. Ianto leaned down and kissed Jack passionately, putting everything he felt for the other man into the kiss, and began stroking Jack with his hand. Jack traced his hands over Ianto's sweat-slicked skin, constantly touching and caressing him. "Gods, you're beautiful," he murmured.

"So are you," Ianto whispered. He gasped as his climax seared through him, and with one final deep thrust, he groaned and came inside Jack. He captured Jack's mouth in a fierce, desperate kiss, and with one more stroke of his hand, Jack moaned and shuddered against him, coating their stomachs with his release.

They shifted onto their sides, facing one another, their bodies wrapped tightly together. Staring into each other's eyes, their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss.

"Okay?" Jack whispered, stroking Ianto's face.

"Yeah," Ianto murmured, smiling softly. "You?"

"Never better," Jack replied, kissing him again. "I've worn you out, haven't I?" he asked worriedly as Ianto felt his eyelids starting to become heavy.

"A little. But in a good way," Ianto assured him.

Jack caressed Ianto's cheek, then climbed off the bed, returning a moment later with a damp flannel from the bathroom. He cleaned Ianto and then himself, returned the flannel to the bathroom, then climbed back into bed and pulled Ianto into his arms again. They lay together quietly, just kissing and touching each other.

It was a few minutes later when Ianto was alarmed to find Jack's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Jack, what's wrong?"

"No, nothing." Jack sniffed and rubbed roughly at his eyes. "Just that I've missed this so much... missed being with you. All the time you were gone, I dreamt of having you back with me again." A tremulous, almost fearful smile crossed his lips. "You make me happy, Ianto. Happier than I've been in a very long time."

"You make me happy too, Jack," Ianto said sincerely, touched by Jack's heartfelt words. He traced his fingers along Jack's jawline, unsuccessfully managing to stifle a yawn. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Jack chuckled. "You're tired. Let's get some rest."

Ianto nodded sleepily. Wrapping his arms around Jack and curling up against him, he settled his head on Jack's chest. "Thank you for tonight," he murmured. "I had a wonderful time."

Jack pulled the bed covers over them. "Me too," he whispered back, holding Ianto tightly. "Sweet dreams, Ianto."

Ianto smiled as the warmth of Jack's body and the rhythmic beating of Jack's heart lulled him peacefully to sleep.


	37. Chapter 37

**********Author's Notes:** Enjoy the new chapter! Thanks as always to the amazing Prothrombintime for so graciously reading my ramblings and for always offering excellent suggestions, feedback and support.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

_**October 3rd, 2005**_

It was just after seven o'clock on Monday morning when Ianto stepped through the Hub's cogwheel door, the relaxed smile on his face reflecting his exceptionally good mood. The date with Jack two days earlier had surpassed all his expectations, and it had ended in exactly the way he'd hoped, with an intense and passionate recommencement of their sexual relationship. Combined with another unhurried session when they'd woken the following morning, and several more rounds that evening after Ianto had made them dinner, it was fair to say he was a very satisfied man, albeit a somewhat tired and sore one.

It was as if a dam had broken, and they were frantically making up for all the time they'd been apart, at least from Jack's point of view. There seemed to be a tangible reverence in the way Jack kissed and touched him, mixed with a hint of fearful desperation, and it served as a poignant reminder of how long the other man had waited, hoping for the chance for them to be together again. Ianto couldn't deny that he was eagerly anticipating many more intensely pleasurable evenings in the weeks ahead as they made up for lost time. He loved Jack, he loved having sex with Jack, and if Jack wanted to shag him senseless every night of the week, that was more than all right with him.

Even Jack's departure in the early hours of the morning due to a Rift alert hadn't been able to shift his good mood, nor could the fact that he invariably faced more prodding and poking from Owen dampen his spirits. Even the prospect of the monumental amount of cleaning and paperwork he had to catch up on didn't perturb him in the slightest.

He felt cautiously hopeful that his life had perhaps turned a corner. He was back at work, where he belonged, and he was dating the man he'd grown to love deeply, as bizarre as that still seemed. While he was enough of a realist to recognise that his relationship with Jack would always be a potential minefield of heartache and despair, he'd decided that he deserved some happiness, as did Jack. He was determined to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

Still smiling with contentment, he checked on Myfanwy, finding her sleeping peacefully in her nest, then made his way into the kitchen area, carrying the bag of coffee beans he'd brought from home. His smile faltered when he saw a large jar of instant coffee sitting on the counter next to the kettle. Screwing up his face in distaste, he quickly dropped the jar into the nearby rubbish bin and busied himself with cleaning the coffee machine in readiness for the first brew of the day.

The coffee machine was gurgling away reassuringly as he finished washing the Hub's supply of cups and mugs, his mind happily occupied with compiling a detailed to-do list for the next few days. He'd also been thinking about the training process for Toshiko and Owen. While Jack's training sessions had been thorough and extensive, they'd also been rather ad hoc. Ianto's sensibilities leaned towards a more structured approach, and with that in mind, he intended to prepare a comprehensive training schedule and assessment process.

The approach of heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and glancing over his shoulder, he saw a freshly showered Jack sauntering up behind him. Sliding off his rubber gloves, Ianto turned to greet the other man, and was rewarded with a slow, deep, toe-curling kiss.

"Welcome back, Ianto," Jack said, smiling at him. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm good, Jack," Ianto replied, stealing another kiss before turning his attention back to the coffee preparations. "Really good. Glad to finally be back at work."

Jack pressed himself up against Ianto's back, his chin settling on Ianto's shoulder, and his arms snaking around Ianto's waist. Ianto felt Jack's nose tickle his neck as the other man inhaled deeply. "You're wearing your pink shirt," Jack murmured.

"So I am," Ianto agreed, not quite managing to suppress a smug little smile.

He'd chosen his outfit for Jack's benefit, including the charcoal pinstripe suit that Jack had always seemed to particularly admire, probably because it was just a little bit tighter around the backside and crotch than his other suits. He always liked to look his best, but he also liked trying to look good for Jack. He knew it was silly and superficial, but if it gave Jack even the tiniest amount of pleasure, it seemed well worth the effort. He doubted there was much he wouldn't do if he thought it would make Jack happy.

"Did you decide to wear it just for me?" Jack asked teasingly, kissing the sensitive skin just below Ianto's ear.

Ianto only just managed to stifle an appreciative groan. "I'm not going to have to give you another lecture about harassment in the workplace am I, Jack?"

Jack chuckled. "I can behave myself."

"I seriously doubt that," Ianto retorted fondly, trying with little success to ignore the way Jack's lips were tracing around the shell of his ear.

"So, I was thinking... we never got to the movie part of 'dinner and a movie' the other night," Jack said a moment later, his tone regretful. "I was looking forward to groping you in the back row."

Ianto chuckled wryly. "Doesn't really sound like an appropriate activity for a first date."

Jack gave a disappointed huff. "Second date then?"

"Actually, I was thinking third date," Ianto replied, smiling to himself. "For our second date, I'm planning to take you shopping. Then we'll have something to wear for our third date."

"Shopping?" Jack asked, sounding doubtful.

"Those leather jackets we were talking about?" Ianto suggested. "Can't very well wear a suit to the cinema."

"Oh, yeah." Jack kissed Ianto's neck again. "I like the way your mind works, Mr. Jones. And there's those changing rooms with tall mirrors... hmm, sounds like fun. So, later this week, Rift permitting?"

Ianto's mind had slipped sideways, his crotch growing tighter. He cleared his throat and forced his attention back to his coffee making. "It's a date," he said in a slightly choked voice, filling their mugs.

"I'll be looking forward to it." Jack reached forward and captured Ianto's right hand, tangling their fingers together. "Have I told you how much I love your hands," he murmured, tightening his other arm around Ianto. "Especially when these long, lean, talented fingers are wrapped around my..."

"Jack," Ianto warned, cutting him off. "Stop it. We have to be professional. Especially now that Tosh and Owen are on the team."

"Do you think that's possible?" he asked, sounding sceptical. "After all, they know we're together. They're not going to expect us to behave just like work colleagues."

"I know, but I want to make a good impression... earn their respect. I don't want them to think we can't keep our personal and work lives separate." Ianto turned and faced Jack. "Please, Jack. It's important to me."

Jack sighed. "I'm not going to stop flirting with you. Especially when we're alone like this. Don't ask me to do that, Ianto, not when I've waited so long to get you back."

Feeling a stab of guilt, Ianto decided to try for a compromise. "Okay, but just try to tone it down a bit when they're here and we're working, yeah?"

"Fine, I'll try," Jack agreed with obvious reluctance, then his eyes sparkled mischievously as a suggestive grin spread across his face. "Do I get a kiss to seal the deal?"

Ianto shook his head with fond exasperation. "You're impossible, you know that don't you?"

"Was that a yes?" Jack asked hopefully, looking unrepentant.

"Come here." Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, kissing him slowly and tenderly. Jack kissed him back, bringing his hands up to gently cradle and stroke Ianto's face. They continued kissing for a minute or two until the cogwheel door alarm sounded, and Ianto pulled away.

He smiled at Jack and passed him his cup of coffee. Jack grabbed it greedily, letting out an obscene moan as he sipped the dark liquid. He grinned at Ianto. "Gods, I've missed this. And it's as spectacular as ever."

"Ianto! Welcome back!"

Ianto turned and found Toshiko standing a few feet away, smiling at him brightly. "Good Morning, Tosh," he said with a polite smile. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Absolutely," Tosh replied, stepping closer to the two men. She nodded and smiled at Jack, then turned her attention back to Ianto. "I've been dying to try it."

"Go on, Tosh," Jack teased. "Give Ianto a welcome back kiss." He grinned widely, waggling his eyebrows. "I already have. Several times actually."

Ianto rolled his eyes while Tosh shook her head with a look of tolerant exasperation. But she stepped forward, tilted her head up, and gave Ianto a quick kiss on the cheek. "It really is good to have you back, Ianto. How are you feeling?"

Ianto was surprised by Toshiko's warm greeting, especially given that they were effectively strangers. "Thanks, Tosh. I'm fine... much better." He filled a plain white mug with coffee and passed it to her. "Here you go."

Tosh accepted the mug from Ianto and took a sip. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Ianto with an expression that was something close to awe. "Wow, this is incredible!" She looked at Jack and laughed. "Jack, you weren't exaggerating when you said Ianto's coffee is better than sex or chocolate."

Jack winked at Ianto, who just rolled his eyes again. "Well, I said almost better than sex," he said with a throaty chuckle. "Ianto's talents go way beyond coffee making." There was a suggestive leer in his voice that left no doubt as to which of those talents Jack was referring to.

"How do you put up with him, Ianto?" Tosh asked, looking between the two of them with obvious amusement. "You must have the patience of a saint."

"Actually, Owen asked me the exact same thing the other day." Ianto smirked at Jack. "But someone has to keep him off the streets and ensure the unsuspecting residents of Cardiff remain safe." He feigned a dramatic sigh.

"Hey!" Jack protested, a scowl creasing his forehead. "Why is everyone ganging up on me?" His lips twitched into what Ianto thought was definitely a pout. "I've been the perfect boyfriend for the last ten days. I've even suffered through endless hours of James Bond movies. I should be the saint!"

Tosh giggled while Ianto stared dumbly at Jack in shock, almost dropping the mug of coffee he'd just picked up and raised to his mouth. Jack had never bandied about the word 'boyfriend' before, even in jest, and he had no idea how to react. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to scamper away and hide in the depths of the archives, utterly mortified, or grab hold of Jack and kiss him senseless.

Fortunately, his emotional reserve won out and he did neither of those things. Instead, he quickly regathered his composure, hoping he'd managed to keep his features arranged in a sufficiently impassive expression. He gave Jack a warm, grateful smile. "You've been brilliant, Jack."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, his expression clearing.

"Yeah," Ianto confirmed, unable and unwilling to deny the simple truth.

"Well, I'll leave you both to it," Tosh said, smiling at both of them. "Thanks for the coffee, Ianto. If you like, I can show you the work I've been doing on the Rift Predictor later."

"Sounds great, Tosh," Ianto replied as she turned away and moved over to her workstation.

Jack leaned back against the counter next to Ianto. He gave Ianto's shoulder a playful nudge. "I think Toshiko is a little bit smitten with you. Not that I can blame her."

"Don't be daft, Jack." Ianto bit down on his lower lip as he wondered how to talk to Jack about the whole boyfriend issue, but decided he needed time to think it over first. He nudged Jack back. "Don't you have some work to do?"

Jack sighed and swallowed a mouthful of his coffee. "Yeah, I suppose." He straightened up and looked Ianto in the eyes. "Don't work too hard today, okay?" He grasped Ianto's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "It's good to have you back, Ianto. It hasn't been the same here without you."

"Thanks, Jack," Ianto said, smiling at him and watching as he retreated to his office.

He stepped out of the kitchen area and allowed himself a moment to cast his eyes around the vast expanse of the Hub. It was good to be back.

###

"It must be weird," Tosh said, looking at Ianto with a thoughtful, compassionate expression. "Waking up and finding out almost a year has passed, and that so much has changed. I think anyone would have trouble dealing with that."

Ianto was sitting next to Tosh at her workstation. It was later that morning and after enduring another examination by Owen, he'd tried to settle back into his routine, busying himself with cleaning, paperwork, and checking on the state of the archives. The brusque doctor had greeted him with a demand for coffee, and while he'd been predictably less demonstrative than Jack or Tosh as he'd sampled Ianto's offering, the widening of his eyes and the speed with which he'd hungrily consumed it had confirmed that Ianto's secret weapon had claimed another willing victim. Thankfully, Owen had also seemed satisfied with Ianto's recovery, but with the proviso not to overdo things for the next few days.

Tosh had just given him a walk-through of her Rift Predictor program, and while she'd admitted it was still a work-in-progress, he was suitable impressed with what she'd achieved so far. He was also gratified to find that he'd been on the right track with his own initial research, but it was Tosh's skills and genius that had taken it from a vague theory into a practical, working application. While most of the mathematics was beyond him, he'd been able to follow her explanations, even offering some ideas on improvements and refinements, all of which Tosh seemed to genuinely welcome.

"It was a bit of a shock at first," he admitted. "But I realised I've been given a second chance. I should be dead, but I'm not." He felt a soft smile pull at the corners of his mouth. "And Jack's been amazing."

"He adores you, Ianto," Tosh said kindly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're lucky to have someone who loves you like that."

There was a sad wistfulness in Toshiko's voice and although Ianto's first impulse was to deny the veracity of her words, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew it would be a lie. "I know," he said softly.

"I don't know if I should say anything, but while you were gone, Jack was so..." Tosh paused, sadness creeping into her eyes. "He seemed so broken. He tried to hide it from us, but it was obvious how much he was hurting. I was working late one night not long after I arrived and I found him down in the morgue. He was sitting on the floor, talking to you, and he was crying... it broke my heart to see him like that. I didn't know what to do so I just sat with him and held his hand." Pausing again, she gave Ianto a small, awkward smile. "He told me about you, about how brilliant you are, and that you're so clever and brave... he talked about how you keep him in line and always take good care of him... that you make him laugh, and how he loves when you roll your eyes at him. He said he'd been smitten from the day he met you."

Ianto tried to swallow around the lump in his throat as Tosh's words tore at his heart. He couldn't bear the thought of Jack being in pain, and he hated that he'd been the cause of it, even though it had been beyond his control. Shifting his eyes away, he looked across at the shimmering water tower and tried to regain his composure.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Tosh said, her voice filled with apology. "I'm sorry, Ianto, I..."

Ianto took a deep breath and looked at her again. He shook his head, giving her a reassuring smile. "No, I'm glad you told me, Tosh. Thank you. I know it must have been terrible for him."

A look of relief passed over her features. "I suppose that's why I feel like I already know you," she continued, smiling self-consciously. "And Jack's so much happier now you're back. He was so excited the other day before your date. It was very sweet. Owen was almost at his wits end... he was threatening to sedate Jack if he didn't calm down." She gave a small, soft chuckle. "And Jack looked so handsome in his suit."

"He is very handsome," Ianto said quietly, smiling at the memory of opening his door and seeing Jack in that stunning bespoke suit for the first time.

Tosh rested her hand tentatively on Ianto's arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "The two of you make a lovely couple, Ianto."

For the second time that day, Ianto found himself surprised and lost for words. Once again he wanted to protest that he and Jack weren't like that... that their relationship wasn't anything so normal and conventional. But he was starting to wonder if perhaps he had it all wrong. First it had been Owen, and now Tosh... even Jack had described himself earlier that morning as being his boyfriend. He really needed to find the courage to talk to Jack and get it straightened out once and for all.

"Thanks, Tosh," he managed awkwardly, unsure what else to say. Trying to push aside his discomfort, he forced a smile to his face. "How about some more coffee?"

###

Ianto carried a fresh round of coffees into Jack's office, putting the mugs down on the desk, and settling himself into the chair opposite the other man. Fiddling nervously with the knot of his tie, he took a deep breath to steady himself. It was lunchtime and Tosh and Owen had gone out, Tosh dragging a grumbling Owen with her, insisting that they were going out to buy lunch for the team in celebration of Ianto's return. Ianto had protested that they didn't need to go to any trouble on his account, but Toshiko had been fiercely determined. Ianto found himself liking the diminutive Japanese woman a great deal and hoped they would become friends.

Jack looked up from his paperwork, smiled at Ianto, then took a sip of coffee. "Thanks, Ianto. Everything okay?"

Ianto folded his hands neatly in his lap. "I was talking to Tosh before. She, uh... she said we make a lovely couple." He struggled not to cringe as the last word left his mouth.

"Well, we do," Jack said matter-of-factly. "I mean look at us, we're both gorgeous, desirable men. We're stunning together."

"Not to mention modest," Ianto added dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Just telling it like it is." He grinned broadly. "Besides, you're modest enough for the both of us."

Ianto rolled his eyes, but continued on determinedly, "And this morning when Tosh arrived, you called yourself my boyfriend."

Jack frowned. "Yup, because I am. So?"

Ianto gaped at Jack, taken aback by his casual acknowledgement. "So, um... is that what we are... we're boyfriends... a couple?" he asked tentatively, almost choking on the words.

Jack stared at him with a confused expression. "Of course we are. Why, what did you think we were?"

Ianto shrugged, lowering his gaze. "Don't know. Just... well, it's all still a bit new to me..."

"You can't be serious," Jack said incredulously. "After all this time? You're still doubting me... us... really? Mind telling me what the hell is going on in that head of yours?"

Ianto looked up again, narrowing his eyes at Jack as a surge of irritation rose up inside him. "Well, it's not like we ever talk about it," he retorted. "Bloody hell, Jack, I don't know how this is meant to work when it's two blokes together. You know I've never done this before. And you're not exactly a typical bloke, are you?" He sighed in frustration, scrubbing his hand over his face. "You're always going on about our quaint little labels, as if we're so far beneath you and your enlightened fifty-first century ways. But I'm a twenty-first century bloke, with all the baggage and limitations that entails. I'm trying to figure all this out, but it's not easy for me."

Jack eyes widened, evidently shocked by Ianto's sudden, emotive outburst. He raised his hands defensively. "Hey, okay. Look, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I know it can't be easy for you. It's just that I thought you were happy with the way things are. I thought this is what you wanted... what we both wanted."

"I am, and it is," Ianto insisted. "But when I was with Lisa, I knew where I stood. It was conventional. She was my girlfriend, we were together... a couple. Whereas with you... well, I've never known where we stood as far as conventional terms apply. Sometime soon I'm going to have to tell my sister about you... about us. So, what do I say? What do I call you?"

"You tell her whatever you feel comfortable with, Ianto," Jack answered evenly.

Ianto sighed again, annoyed that Jack seemed unwilling to give him a straight answer. "John Hart said you and he were partners. He said you were partners in every way."

"John Hart was a lying bastard," Jack said shortly, his expression darkening. "You know that. We were partnered together by the Time Agency, that's all. We were friends for a while and we had a physical relationship. Anything more was just the invention of his deluded mind."

"And us?" Ianto asked hesitantly. "Are we partners?"

Jack stared at him for a long moment, then he stood and moved around to Ianto's side of the desk. He leaned against the desk's edge, directly in front of Ianto, and looked down at him intently. Ianto shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but he resolutely held the other man's piercing gaze.

"Ianto, I almost lost you." Jack's voice was suddenly quiet and tentative. "And if I had, I would have had to live with so many regrets... all the things I should have said... the things I should have done differently. Now I've got the chance to do things properly with you, and I'm still terrified I'm going to screw it all up." He paused, looking pensive, then took a deep breath as if to strengthen his resolve. "Ianto, you mean the world to me. I love you. And to answer your question, yes, we're partners... partners in every way. At least, that's what I want us to be."

Ianto stared dumbstruck at Jack, his astonishment rendering him unmoving and speechless. Finally, he rose unsteadily to his feet and moved closer to Jack, until their faces were almost touching. "I love you too, Jack," he said quietly, but with complete certainty. "And I'd be proud to call you my partner."

He took Jack's face in his hands and kissed him fiercely. Jack's arms wrapped around him, holding him close, and Jack kissed him back with the same passionate intensity.

"Now who's committing harassment in the workplace?" Jack asked cheekily when they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting against one another.

"So, you don't want me to kiss you again then?" Ianto countered, adding a hint of challenge to his voice.

"Well, I suppose I can make an exception just this once." Jack bumped his nose against Ianto's. "But if it happens again, I may have to punish you."

"Is that a promise?" Ianto asked hopefully, his lips twitching with a playful smirk.

Jack chuckled. "You're getting as bad as I am." He pulled back just far enough for their eyes to meet, gently caressing his fingertips down Ianto's cheek. "Are we okay, Ianto? No more confusion or doubts about us?"

"Yes, Jack. No more doubts," Ianto replied firmly, feeling profoundly relieved.

They'd admitted their feelings to each other and the world hadn't ended, so he decided to take that as a good sign. Without a further thought, he pressed himself against Jack and kissed him again.


	38. Chapter 38

**********Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for invaluable encouragement and feedback. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

_**October 19th, 2008**_

Jack spent the next several days walking the streets of London, refamiliarising himself with the vast, bustling city. As he'd expected, it had changed substantially in the almost seven decades since the fateful encounter in 1941 that had profoundly and irrevocably changed his life. The nights were long and mostly sleepless, his mind too active with countless unanswerable questions, and his newly fragile body not yet used to requiring time to recharge.

Alcohol helped, allowing him to drift into a numb stupor, temporarily shifting the relentless tumult of his thoughts into the background and providing an all-too-brief reprieve. He'd rapidly assembled a substantial DVD collection from a nearby entertainment store, and he spent his waking hours at night watching everything from old classics to contemporary science-fiction. When staring at the television screen lost its appeal, he turned to the small collection of worn hard-cover classics he'd also acquired. He'd bought them from a quaint second-hand book store he stumbled upon on his second day of strolling around the city.

He'd tried visiting various pubs and clubs in the area, always taking refuge in a dark corner, sitting alone and drinking as he enviously watched ordinary people living their blissfully ignorant lives. He'd been approached several times, but he'd refused each time, brusquely waving the person away no matter how attractive he found them. He'd briefly considered finding one or more willing bodies to lose himself in for a few hours, but the thought of a meaningless, forgettable encounter was strangely unappealing, almost bordering on repulsive. Instead, he found himself longing for the familiarity and comfort of a friend and lover... someone who knew him well... someone who he trusted and could talk to... someone who accepted him despite his flaws and misdeeds. It had been such a long time since he'd had someone special in his life... a close friend and companion... someone he could truly trust.

When the confines of his hotel room became unbearable, he retreated to the building's rooftop, spending hours gazing out over the immense city. It was so different to Cardiff, the only place he'd begrudgingly begun to think of as his home, and now the one place on the planet he could never return to.

Sometimes he'd gaze up at the stars, his heart heavy with longing as he wondered if he'd ever travel amongst them again... if he'd have one more chance to experience the majestic beauty of the galaxy before his life reached an end. He'd waited for so very long to find the right version of the Doctor, the century turning twice in the process. He couldn't understand why he wasn't with the Doctor instead of facing a self-imposed exile on Earth. The recording had simply said he'd had his reasons for returning, but he couldn't imagine anything or anyone luring him away from his dream of leaving Earth to roam time and space with the Doctor again, embarking on one fantastic adventure after another. Something fundamental had clearly changed, but without the responsibilities of Torchwood to draw him back, he was bewildered as to what could have caused him to choose such a dramatically different path.

He wondered if he would meet the Doctor again someday, and then have the means to travel the stars once more. In the meantime he was Earth-bound. He'd have to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his mortal life. The possibilities were endless, but everything felt horribly wrong. He was alone, disillusioned and confused. He simply didn't know what to do, or even what he wanted.

Several times he'd sat in the chair by the bed, clutching his Webley and wondering if the solution to his troubles wasn't right there in the palms of his hands. He'd already lived several lifetimes, and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to live one more. He'd seen more wonders and horrors than most people could begin to imagine. He'd experienced breathtaking pleasure, and he'd endured unspeakable suffering and loss. He'd loved several times, even if it had never lasted, and he'd even tried marriage once.

He considered that perhaps he'd lived enough... that there was nothing left for him. He wasn't sure if he could imagine anything in the world that could give him meaning again.

###

It was on the fourth day of his new reality that Jack found himself wandering around Canary Wharf. He'd bought himself a cup of coffee at an expensive, upmarket coffee shop, hesitantly taking a small sip as he negotiated the streets overrun with towering office buildings. The coffee was quite respectable – hot and strong, just the way he liked it – yet he felt an inexplicable stab of disappointment that intensified into a strange sense of soul-deep longing. It was the same odd sensation he'd experienced every time he'd tasted coffee since awakening in the hotel room. It was as if he instinctively knew that no matter how good the coffee was, it would ultimately disappoint him. Something elusive and indefinable was missing.

It was with trepidation that he slowly approached the site where the towering monolith of Torchwood One had once stood. He'd never trusted Torchwood's leadership, and Yvonne Hartman had been merely the latest in a long line of arrogant, self-righteous, morally questionable leaders. Even so, he'd been shocked to learn from his holographic message that Hartman's ignorance and blind devotion to Queen and Country had very nearly brought about the destruction of the entire planet. Ironically, it was Torchwood's supposed number one enemy who had saved the world, as Jack knew the enigmatic time traveller had done countless times before.

Over eight hundred souls had been lost as a result of Hartman's misdeeds. Jack hadn't been close to anyone at Torchwood London, preferring to keep his distance, but he was appalled by the staggering and unnecessary loss of life. All that now remained of the once great Torchwood Institute was the Cardiff branch and the crumbling remains of Torchwood House in Scotland. Torchwood Four was long gone in another set of tragic circumstances, and the Torchwood Two office in Glasgow had been closed down just before the turn of the century. The final remnants of Torchwood would probably be swallowed up by UNIT at some point in the near future, and a large part of him was relieved he wouldn't be there to see that happen.

The site was now an expanse of lush parkland interspersed with pockets of colourful gardens; a small green oasis in a jungle of towers of glass and steel. The Crown had decreed that the site was never to be developed for commercial use again – it would remain as a shrine to the lost lives, an ongoing warning to the powers that be of the dangers of meddling in things far beyond human understanding. A scarce few knew the truth, while the world at large attributed the destruction to a random terrorist attack.

It was with a heavy heart that Jack walked over to a bench at the north-west corner of the park and sat down. He continued to sip at his coffee as he idly observed the surroundings. He wasn't sure why he'd decided to visit the former Torchwood site. He supposed it was out of a sense of macabre curiosity, or perhaps the need to see proof of Torchwood's downfall with his own eyes. Shuddering violently at the thought of both the Daleks and Cybermen battling for supremacy over the planet, he tried to distract himself by turning his attention to the people nearby.

His eyes eventually settled on a young man sitting alone on one of the benches at the other side of the park. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with short, dark brown hair that was a startling contrast to his pale skin. Although sitting down, he appeared to be tall, lithe, and long-limbed. Dressed in casual attire, he was undeniably good-looking, although somewhat unremarkable at a glance, and yet Jack found he couldn't tear his eyes away. The man was almost huddled at the end of the bench, staring into the distance, seemingly unaware of his surroundings, and looking utterly lost. In fact, he had the appearance of being every bit as lost as Jack himself.

Jack watched the young man for several more minutes. Mentally shaking himself, he rose to his feet and walked away, anxious to leave behind the tranquil location that sent shivers of unease trembling down his spine.

###

After another restless night, Jack set off into the city again the following morning. He wandered aimlessly all morning, but by early afternoon he found himself in the vicinity of Canary Wharf once more. The lost young man had remained in his thoughts, and he found himself wondering if he'd be in the park again, despite the likelihood being wildly improbable. It was a foolhardy notion, but he couldn't resist the temptation of having just a quick look.

He entered the park, tugging ineffectively at his jacket as a gust of cold wind blew over him. He missed his beloved greatcoat, but his pre-retconned self had apparently decided it would be an unwelcome reminder of the past. He supposed he must have left it behind in Cardiff.

Rounding a dense patch of tall shrubs, he abruptly came to a halt. To his astonishment, the young man was sitting on the same bench again, almost as if he hadn't moved since Jack had seen him the day before. The man's clothes were different but similar, and he still looked every bit as lost. After pausing indecisively for a moment, Jack slowly made his way over to the bench, wondering how in the world he was going to make the other man's acquaintance, but determined to do so.

"May I?" he asked, standing at the opposite end of the bench and gesturing towards it.

The man glanced up, apparently pulled from deep contemplation. He didn't meet Jack's eyes, but he nodded distractedly before quickly looking away again.

Jack sat down cautiously, keeping a respectable distance between them. He took a moment to surreptitiously study the young man more closely. Pale and thin, with youthful, boyish features, he was nonetheless strikingly handsome with high cheekbones, a smallish button-shaped nose, and pinkish, down-turned lips. Thick, dark eyebrows accentuated the glimpse Jack had caught of expressive blue eyes, and neatly groomed sideburns contrasted with smooth, clean-shaven skin. An almost overwhelming wave of déjà vu struck Jack, and he looked away, taken by surprise with the intensity of the unexpected sensation.

"I knew some of the people who died here," he murmured after he'd regained his composure, keeping his eyes fixed on a row of neatly trimmed shrubs in the distance. "In the attack," he added.

He waited a few moments, then hazarded a glance at the young man. He was now looking directly at Jack, his eyes slightly wide, and seeming to notice him properly for the first time. He just stared blankly at Jack for a long moment, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows.

"My... er... my girlfriend. She died here," he eventually muttered, his voice soft and tremulous. "Some other people I knew died here too."

Jack was startled to discover the man had a Welsh accent, his voice deep and melodious, with beautiful rolling vowels. Something about the man's sad voice pulled at his heart in a way he was entirely unable to describe or quantify.

"I'm very sorry," he said, feeling genuine compassion for the young man. Like all of the victim's friends and loved ones, he'd never know the truth of how his girlfriend had actually perished.

The young man just nodded slightly in acknowledgement. He continued to look at Jack, his stoic features slowly giving way to an expression of uncertain curiosity. "This will sound weird, but have we met before?"

"No," Jack replied automatically, belatedly realising he couldn't actually be sure they hadn't. Given the man's accent, it was at least within the realms of possibility they had crossed paths before. "I'm sure I'd remember if we had," he added, cringing inwardly at his unfortunate chose of words.

The man just nodded again. Deciding to take the initiative, Jack held out his hand. "I'm... James... James Huntley."

The man looked down at Jack's proffered hand before finally extending his own and giving Jack's a quick but firm shake. "Evans... Dylan Evans."

Jack smiled at Dylan, who continued to look at him curiously. "Nice to meet you, Dylan Evans. So, I was thinking of getting some coffee. There's a half-decent place just nearby." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the coffee shop he'd visited the day before. "Feel like joining me? I could use the company."

A flicker of suspicion passed over the younger man's features, but just when Jack thought he was going to refuse, his expression slowly cleared.

"All right," he said, giving Jack a small but seemingly genuine smile. The subtle gesture had the startling effect of transforming Dylan's face into something quite beautiful, and Jack wondered if he was being fanciful in thinking his heart had started beating just a little bit faster.

"Great." Jack stood up and waited for the other man to do the same, then smiled at him again. "Let's go and get some coffee."


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Notes:** Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Thanks as always to the brilliant Prothrombintime for unwavering feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

_**April 10th, 2007**_

Ianto wearily followed Tosh and Owen through the cogwheel door and into the Hub, cringing when the door of Jack's office slammed shut with a reverberating bang. If he'd been more cogitative he might have been amazed the sound of shattering glass hadn't accompanied the understandable, yet somewhat childish and futile act. He suspected Jack would already be downing his first glass of Scotch, quite possibly making a start on his second.

He'd barely finished climbing the stairs to the main work area when Owen did an abrupt about-face and stepped back towards him, his eyes glaring with malevolent fury. Not having seen their medic quite so incensed before, Ianto almost took an involuntary step backwards, but he somehow managed to hold his ground, his lack of retreat more due to the heaviness of his tired limbs and the ache in his heart than any genuine sense of bravery. Meeting Owen's baleful gaze, he steeled himself for the tirade he was undoubtedly about to endure.

"You fucking bastard," Owen seethed, his face mere inches from Ianto's, and his body visibly trembling with impotent anger. "You just stood at his side and watched as those monsters took that little girl. Jesus, she was only eight years old. How the fuck could you do that? You're as bad as him. Actually, you're worse. At least we know Jack can be a cold, heartless bastard." He jabbed his index finger sharply against Ianto's chest. "I thought you were different." Stepping back, he shook his head, giving Ianto a look of scornful contempt. "Wouldn't be surprised to find a bloody dog collar underneath your perfect shirt and tie. Ianto Jones, faithful fucking lapdog of Jack Harkness."

"Owen!" Tosh was standing by her workstation and watching the altercation, her eyes wide with shock.

"That's enough, Owen," Ianto said firmly, forcing himself to remain calm. The man's words had hurt, but he knew Owen was in pain and needed a convenient target on which to unleash his anger. He knew how deeply it affected Owen to lose a life, and that for all his feigned indifference and acerbic demeanour, Owen was a compassionate man with a big heart. It just happened that he and Jack were easy targets.

"You know there was nothing we could have done," he continued, taking a deep breath. "If we'd tried to stop them from taking Jasmine, they would have killed all three of us in retribution for Jack's interference."

He paused, thinking sadly of Estelle Cole, another of Jack's ex-lovers, who he'd only met three days earlier. Estelle had been Jack's wartime sweetheart no less, and Jack had abandoned her so she'd never learn his secret. Jack had kept an eye on her over the years, eventually claiming to be the son of the man Estelle had once loved. An elderly woman in her late seventies, but still spirited and intelligent, her vicious murder at the hands of the creatures had been cruel and spiteful, and he knew Jack blamed himself for Estelle's untimely death.

Suppressing a wince from the dull ache that had settled across his shoulders, Ianto continued, "They wouldn't have stopped there either. Regardless, they still would have taken her. She was a chosen one. They wouldn't have stopped until they had her." The fact that Jasmine had desperately wanted to go with the creatures offered very little comfort.

He had to close his eyes for a moment, too many images assaulting his mind at once... Estelle's frail, rain-soaked body lying in her garden, Jack kneeling at her side, tears pouring down his face... the anguish on Lynn Pierce's face as her only child was taken from her, punching at Jack in futile despair before collapsing to the ground and sobbing brokenly... and lastly, a terrible, conjured image of what might have been – Jack, his face contorted in unspeakable pain, screaming to the heavens, their three lifeless bodies scattered at his feet, bright red rose petals peeking out from between their cold lips.

He knew losing them was Jack's worst nightmare. They'd been clearly warned about the consequences of interfering when Ianto had entered his apartment two days earlier to find every surface littered with rose petals, the apparent calling card of the malevolent creatures. The palpable look of fear and horror on Jack's face was etched irrevocably into his mind. Estelle had been another warning, a message to Jack that he'd lose everyone dear to him if he attempted to interfere with the creatures plans.

Jack had told him about how the creatures posing as benevolent fairies – or the Mara as Jack called them, describing them as creatures from the dawn of time – had killed the entire troop of soldiers under his command in 1909, on a train in Lahore, Pakistan. It had been retribution for the accidental death of a child, another chosen one, when the men had gotten drunk and driven through a village, running over the child and killing her. From the moment the odd weather patterns had begun to appear on the Hub's scanners, and it was clear the fairies had returned, Jack had known they would be powerless to stop them.

Shivering involuntarily, Ianto opened his eyes again, sparing Tosh a glance before turning his attention back to a belligerent looking Owen.

He stepped forward and rested his hand gently on the other man's shoulder. "I know you're upset, Owen. We are all. But this was a fight we could never win." Pausing, he sighed heavily. "You can't save everyone," he added in a gentler tone. "No matter how much you wish you could."

Owen continued to glare at him defiantly, looking as if he was about to unleash another diatribe. Then his shoulders slumped in what seemed to be defeat, his anger apparently quelled for the time being.

Ianto dropped his hand away and stepped back. "Take tomorrow off, both of you," he said quietly. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I think we should be clear for the next forty-eight hours." He looked at Tosh, who nodded in confirmation.

"Fine. I'm outta here. I need a drink." Owen pushed past Ianto, descending the steps and moving back towards the cogwheel door. "Coming, Tosh?"

Ianto didn't take offence by the lack of invitation to join them. Even in his distressed state, Owen knew that Ianto would never leave Jack alone.

Tosh began to follow Owen. "Ianto?" she asked, pausing hesitantly, a conflicted expression on her face.

"Go ahead. Have a drink for me too." Ianto gave her a small, weary smile. "We'll be fine here."

Tosh glanced towards Jack's office, then looked back at Ianto. It seemed like she was about to say something, but then thought better of it. "All right, but call me if you need anything?"

"I will. Thanks, Tosh." Ianto nodded his head towards the doorway. "Go on, be with Owen. Take care of him."

Tosh reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then followed after Owen, who was standing sullenly just beyond the open doorway.

Ianto watched sadly as they departed, suddenly feeling very alone. Owen would be all right, he assured himself. He had Tosh, and she'd help him work through his turmoil. It was Owen's way, to rail at the world when things were beyond his control. He'd be insufferable, surly and obnoxious for a few days, at least more so than usual, then he'd be back to normal again.

He was grateful they had each other, and although it was still new, he had high hopes for the unlikely pairing. Tosh was a calming, stabilising influence on Owen, and she was obviously besotted with the gruff medic, much to Ianto's surprise. He loved Owen like a brother – albeit a grumpy, over-protective, frequently infuriating one – but he couldn't imagine the man being easy to be in a relationship with. However, if anyone could handle Owen, it was surely the softly spoken, mild-mannered Toshiko, who, beyond her meek, non-threatening exterior, possessed a core of steel. Ianto loved her too.

Tosh and Owen had both had more than their fair share of romantic missteps since joining Torchwood, so he hoped it would be different this time. They both deserved to find happiness, although a part of him couldn't help thinking that two work-place romances within such a small, close-knit team was a recipe for disaster.

Along with Jack, Tosh and Owen were his family now. He tried not to think of Rhiannon, who he'd been estranged with since the John Hart incident and his supposed disappearance to Nepal. He missed his niece and nephew, but Rhiannon had never properly forgiven him, and in the end it was easier just to keep his distance. They'd never really gotten along at the best of times, and they'd grown even further apart when he'd moved to London and began working for Torchwood. That hadn't changed significantly on his return to Cardiff, and he'd become tired of living a lie. He sent cards and money to David and Mica for their birthdays and for Christmas, but that was the extent of his contact with his family. The last two Christmases he'd spent with Jack, and he was more than happy with that arrangement. Although Jack had cautiously suggested a few times that he should attempt to reconcile with Rhiannon, he'd thus far stubbornly refused.

Running his hand absent-mindedly through his hair, he made his way into the kitchen area, and in need of a distraction, he busied himself with making a cup of Jack's industrial-strength coffee. With the steaming mug in hand, he retreated to the furthest side of the Hub, not wanting Jack to think he was hovering nearby. As much as he wanted to comfort the other man, he knew Jack's moods well enough to understand when he needed to be on his own.

Eighteen months on from their official first date, they were still a couple – admittedly, a somewhat unconventional one – but a couple nonetheless. They'd had a few rough patches along the way, mostly when their working lives clashed with their private ones, but they continued to be happy together. He attributed their longevity in part to a mutual respect for each other's need for space on occasion. Besides, they were both strong-willed, fiercely independent men, who spent more time together than most couples, so a little breathing room now and then seemed both necessary and healthy. Although it wasn't in Ianto's nature to be demanding, he was certain a clingy, overbearing partner would be a sure fire way of sending Jack running for the hills. And while Jack could be quite clingy himself at times, especially after Ianto had been in danger, Ianto would never ask Jack for more than he was willing to give. When Jack was done punishing himself and ready for some companionship again, he'd seek him out.

He settled on the upper walkway, his legs dangling over the edge, and sipped distractedly at his coffee. Myfanwy swooped down from the upper reaches of the Hub's atrium and landed at his side, cawing softly as she sidled up against him.

Putting down his coffee mug on the metal grating beside him, he stroked her neck in the way she always seemed to like, distractedly wishing he'd thought to grab a bar of dark chocolate from his desk drawer.

"You know, sometimes I really hate this job," he muttered despondently.

###

After feeding Myfanwy and sharing a bar of dark chocolate with her for dessert, Ianto busied himself with some routine chores around the Hub to keep his mind occupied. He'd noted that Jack's office was empty, the man obviously having retreated to his bunker at some point, and he had yet to resurface.

Ianto slumped down onto the Hub's sofa, reclining his head as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then closed his eyes. Knowing sleep would likely elude him for the next several days, he decided to at least rest his eyes while he waited for Jack to appear. He rolled his aching shoulders and tried to focus on his breathing, hoping in vain to release some of the tension that seemed to permeate every part of him.

He'd lost track of time when he heard the door of Jack's office swing open, followed by the approach of weary footsteps. Opening his eyes, he watched as Jack sat down heavily beside him, dishevelled and dressed only in his trousers and white undershirt.

Ianto's heart constricted at the sight of Jack's glazed and red-rimmed eyes, but he silently waited for the other man to say something. He'd become quite adept at dealing with Jack's many and varied moods, and he'd learned that when Jack was consumed by guilt and self-recrimination, the last thing he wanted was comfort or trite, hollow words.

Finally, Jack broke the heavy silence. "They think I'm a monster," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "A cold, heartless monster. Is that what you think too?"

"No, Jack," Ianto said firmly. He risked resting his hand gently on Jack's knee. "And neither do they. They're angry and upset, but they know we didn't have a choice." He rubbed Jack's knee soothingly. "You did what you had to do. We all know that."

Jack nodded absently. His posture remained tense, but he rested his hand over Ianto's, and Ianto didn't hesitate to grasp Jack's hand and lace their fingers together. "Owen gave you a hard time, didn't he?" Jack met his eyes for the first time since he'd sat down. "He can be a cruel bastard sometimes."

"Nothing I can't handle," Ianto assured him. "You know what he's like, he just needed to let off some steam. I sent them home and told them both to take the day off tomorrow."

Jack nodded distractedly again. "Good."

Ianto squeezed Jack's hand, and silence settled between them again. Jack seemed so lost and far away, just staring vacantly into space, and he wasn't sure what he could do or say that might help to ease the man's suffering. Surreptitiously keeping an eye on him, he simply continued to hold onto Jack's hand.

It hadn't been long ago, only just over three months, since Tosh and Owen had discovered Jack's secret under predictably stressful circumstances. They'd infiltrated a facility known as the Pharm, where aliens were being exploited in an attempt to develop new medicines for the treatment of various incurable diseases. A number of human test subjects had died in the process, alerting them to the Pharm's existence. Owen had gone undercover, posing as a potential patient. But the man running the facility, a Professor Aaron Copley, had discovered their subterfuge, and he'd killed Jack with a gunshot to the chest. When the enraged man had turned his gun towards Owen, Ianto hadn't hesitated to shoot Copley through the skull, killing him instantly. Owen and Tosh had been shocked and horrified when Jack had gasped back to life, clutching at Ianto, who had held Jack in his arms as he waited, trying his best to hold back his tears. It continued to be his greatest fear that Jack's ability to resurrect might run out one day.

Eventually, he broke the silence, his thoughts having drifted to another problem that required decisive intervention. "What are we going to do about D.S. Cooper?" he asked hesitantly, thinking about the female detective sergeant who had recently taken to stalking the Torchwood team.

Gwen Cooper had witnessed Jack dealing with a rogue Weevil at St. Helen's hospital a week and a half earlier. The tenacious Welshwoman had subsequently tracked Jack back to the Plass, eventually attempting to enter the Hub by posing as a pizza delivery person. They'd promptly dealt with her with the judicious use of a stun gun and retcon, but she'd been prowling around the Plass regularly since, staring curiously at the location of the invisible lift. Ianto had spotted her looking directly at the SUV as they'd sped off from the Hub earlier that day. It was only a matter of time before she became a problem again.

"I think we should hire her," he added, before Jack had responded.

That caught Jack's attention. He turned to face Ianto, his hand pulling away from Ianto's grasp as his mouth dropped open in obvious astonishment. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, Jack. I'm not." Ianto held Jack's doubtful gaze determinedly. "Listen... she could be a valuable asset. She could be our police liaison – she has training, she's persistent... dogmatic. She has useful skills. Definitely a plus."

Jack frowned. "I don't like her. She's wilful, insubordinate, and stubborn."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Ianto retorted wryly, arching an eyebrow.

A flicker of warmth appeared in Jack's dull eyes. "You were different."

"Yeah, I suppose I was," Ianto agreed, deciding it would be wise not to point out that, unlike his own humble beginnings, Gwen Cooper wasn't ostensibly a Torchwood One spy. "Still, doesn't mean she couldn't be useful. How about a compromise? Three months trial period? Same as you gave me."

Jack continued to look doubtful. "You sure about this?"

"No, not entirely," Ianto admitted. "But I think it's worth a try. Besides, the alternative is a stronger dose of retcon and hope it sticks this time, or we keep monitoring her and make sure she doesn't talk. Neither are particularly good options."

Jack was silent, apparently mulling it over. "All right," he said eventually, but looking far from happy about it. "But she's your responsibility and if it all goes wrong, it will be your job to clean up the mess."

Ianto nodded. "Understood."

He didn't feel the need to disclose that one of the main reasons he wanted to hire Gwen Cooper was to provide Jack with a capable secondary field agent. Jack tended to continue doing much of their field work on his own, thus putting himself at greater risk than Ianto felt was strictly necessary. Unlike himself, Tosh and Owen, whose primary responsibilities were all within the confines of the Hub, Gwen's primary role would be investigations and field work. That was assuming Jack could tolerate working with her. He couldn't deny that the woman seemed somewhat opinionated and abrasive.

Jack slipped into silence again, and Ianto's thoughts wandered. "Estelle's funeral is on Friday morning," he said softly after several minutes. "I'd like to come with you, if that's all right. Pay my respects."

Jack nodded almost imperceptibly, then turned his head and looked directly into Ianto's eyes. "That's going to be you one day, Ianto." His voice broke, and he quickly looked away. "One day, sooner or later, I'll be attending your funeral."

"Not for a very long time I hope." Ianto sighed heavily. Sometimes when Jack looked at him, it felt like he was watching Ianto age before his very eyes – that Jack was already mourning his death. As ridiculous as it seemed given his youth, he knew that with Torchwood's mortality rate and the inevitability of Jack losing everyone he cared about, it was a real and unavoidable issue. It was also one which they were powerless to do anything about. Every day he grew a little older, while Jack remained exactly the same. "We make the most of the time we've got, Jack," he said determinedly. "That's the deal. It's all we can do."

"It's not enough," Jack mumbled, irritation creeping into his voice. "It's never enough." He turned to look at Ianto again. "It's not too late for you, Ianto. You've got your whole life ahead of you. You could do anything you want to do. You should leave all this." He waved vaguely out across the Hub. "Leave it all behind. You deserve so much more."

The unspoken meaning of Jack's words was all too clear. Ianto knew Jack was actually saying: _"__You deserve more than me."_ He grasped Jack's hand again, holding it firmly. "Jack, listen to me. I'm where I want to be. This is the life I want, here with you. Besides, the Doctor might turn up soon... he'll get you sorted." He refused to say the word 'fixed'. He could never think of Jack as wrong or broken.

Jack just shook his head miserably, his depressed mood apparently not allowing him to believe in the possibility. With each passing year it seemed that Jack's hope of finding the Doctor diminished, and sometimes Ianto wondered if Jack had resigned himself to his fate.

He decided to try a different tact. "I was thinking that tomorrow we could get out of the city for a few hours. Drive down to Porthcawl, take some lunch with us, go for a stroll along the beach?" he suggested, remembering how much Jack had enjoyed a visit to the beach on one of their rare days off together several months earlier. "Been a while since we've done anything like that."

"Yeah, sounds nice," Jack murmured non-committally.

"Okay," Ianto acknowledged, relieved that Jack hadn't outright rejected the idea. He glanced down at his watch and realised it was later than he'd thought. "Do you want to go home now?"

Jack finally met his eyes again. "Think I'll stay here tonight. But you should head home and get some rest."

"Oh." Ianto felt his heart sink, but he tried to hide his disappointment. "Um... all right."

He didn't like leaving Jack on his own in his current state, but if Jack wanted time to himself, he wouldn't object. However, it was rare for them to spend a night apart anymore, unless work intervened. Over time, more of Jack's clothing and other random possessions had crept into the apartment, and little by little, Ianto had come to think of the apartment as theirs rather than his. Of course, technically the apartment belonged to Jack, but Ianto continued to pay rent, despite Jack's objections. But those were just technicalities. What mattered was that it had become their home together, a little sanctuary of normality amidst the stress and chaos of their unconventional lives.

"That's okay, isn't it?" Jack asked, his tone lacking emotion.

"Yeah, of course it is," Ianto replied quickly. "Want me to get you some dinner before I go?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry."

"Right. Guess I'll be off then." Rising to his feet, Ianto leaned down and kissed Jack's forehead, receiving only a forced, wan smile in return. "Call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning."

He retrieved his belongings, and with a final worried glance over his shoulder at the bereaved man, he exited the Hub, knowing an anxious, sleepless night lay ahead.


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who continues to review and support this story. It's very much appreciated and definitely helps to motivate me to keep writing. Thanks also as always to Prothrombintime for feedback and reassurance.

* * *

**Chapte****r Forty**

_**April 18th, 2007**_

Ianto climbed the stairs to the boardroom, carrying the large box of Chinese take-away he'd just collected for the team's lunch. He fervently hoped the gesture would help to ingratiate himself back into the good graces of his colleagues. Being in the proverbial doghouse with not only Jack, but also to a lesser extent with Owen and Tosh, was beginning to wear rather thin.

Gwen Cooper, formerly a detective sergeant with the Cardiff CID, was now an official member of the Torchwood Three team, having begun her reassignment two days earlier. To say her induction into the team had been somewhat less than auspicious would have been a monumental understatement. Jack disliked her and was barely talking to Ianto as a result, she'd managed to offend both Owen and Tosh with some tactless comments about their personal lives, and she'd helped herself to Myfanwy's stash of chocolate, leaving a grumpy, chocolate-deprived prehistoric reptile in her wake. Thankfully, the later situation had been remedied with an emergency supply run and the relocation of the replenished chocolate stash to Jack's bunker. Even Jack with his sweet tooth wouldn't eat Myfanwy's chocolate and risk Ianto's wrath.

Gwen had almost gotten herself mauled to death by a Weevil on her first day, then followed up by accidentally triggering a bio-hazard containment alert, causing the Hub to go into full lock-down for twelve hours. Neither event had helped to win her any friends. Her incessant chatter about the dramas of her upcoming wedding to her presumably long-suffering fiancé, a Welshman by the name of Rhys Williams, wasn't helping either. Even worse, she'd promptly invited the entire team to join her in celebrating the joyous occasion.

Ianto was trying his best to be patient and tolerant. He didn't dislike Gwen, and he couldn't fault her enthusiasm, nor had he expected that bringing her into their close-knit team would be easy. However, he silently conceded that recruiting her hadn't perhaps been the best decision he'd ever made. Even so, he was trying to remain confident that, in time, Gwen would prove to be a valuable addition to the team.

It hadn't slipped his attention that the Welshwoman seemed fascinated with Jack, although he couldn't help being amused that the interest was wholly one-sided. Gwen wasn't unattractive, but Jack seemed oblivious to her charms, and to Ianto's surprise he hadn't observed the other man flirting with her even once. But Jack hadn't been himself lately, having been quiet and withdrawn since the fairies incident and Estelle's death. The funeral the week before had been particularly hard on him, and Ianto's heart ached every time he recalled how Jack had clung to him for hours afterwards, inconsolable and sobbing brokenly.

Since then, he hadn't seen much of Jack, and he worried that whenever Jack now looked at him what he saw was another person he'd eventually be forced to grieve over. And a small, traitorous voice in his head kept wondering if this was the beginning of the end – that by loving Jack and choosing to be with him, he was being selfish, unfair, and ultimately cruel.

Just over three years had passed since they'd shared their first kiss in an abandoned warehouse with an unconscious pterodactyl on the ground beside them. Even though he'd been in cryo-freeze for ten months of that time, technically they'd still been together. In many ways it was more than he could have hoped for, yet it didn't feel like nearly enough. Without a shadow of doubt, he knew Jack was the person he wanted to spend his life with, and he simply couldn't contemplate the thought of wanting to be with anyone else. But, as difficult and unbearable as it was to consider, he feared the day would eventually come when he'd have to walk away, for Jack's sake if not for his own. He wondered if, in the end, that was the true measure of love – to walk away, fully knowing it would tear your soul apart.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he forced aside his melancholy thoughts and plastered a smile onto his face as he crossed the threshold into the boardroom. "So... who's for Chinese?" he announced cheerfully.

"Oi, Teaboy! About bloody time," Owen said by way of greeting from where he was sprawled in his chair. "I'm starving."

Ianto rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he put down the box in the centre of the large oval-shaped table, relieved that Owen was back to usual form, everything apparently forgiven. He smiled at Tosh, who smiled back, shaking her head with obvious amusement at their medic.

Gwen, on the other hand, looked outraged. "Owen!" she hissed, scowling furiously at him. "Do you always have to be so rude?"

Owen just shrugged nonchalantly, while Ianto busied himself with passing out plates, cutlery and paper napkins. "It's fine, Gwen. Just Owen's way of trying to hide that he's secretly in love with me."

"Yeah, right. In your dreams, mate," Owen retorted. He grinned at Ianto, then started opening containers of food and loading up his plate.

Gwen looked between the two of them with a curious expression, and Ianto suppressed an amused smirk. He retrieved bottles of water and glasses from the side table and distributed them, putting one at the head of the table for Jack and another at his usual place immediately to Jack's left. "Go ahead, tuck in," he said to Gwen as Tosh joined Owen in gathering food onto her plate. "Don't let it get cold."

"Shouldn't we wait for Jack?" Gwen asked.

"Nah, he'll turn up as soon as he smells the food," Owen said dismissively, taking a bite out of an egg roll.

"We don't stand on ceremony around here," Ianto added as he began neatly filling a plate with all of Jack's favourite dishes from the various containers. Not knowing Gwen's preferences yet, he didn't want to risk that she'd inadvertently short-change Jack and unwittingly add to her list of transgressions. "Jack will join us when he's ready."

Once he'd readied Jack's food to his satisfaction and put the plate down at the head of the table, he gathered his own meal. Assured that everyone was taken care of, he sat down, neatly tucked a napkin into the collar of his shirt, picked up his chopsticks, and began eating.

Jack strolled into the room a moment later, plonking himself down unceremoniously in his chair. He looked down at his plate, then smiled at Ianto as he picked up his fork. "Mmm, this looks good. Thanks, Ianto."

"Yes, thanks, Ianto," Gwen chimed in as she finished putting a small amount of food on her plate and started eating. She looked up, obviously realising the rest of them were looking at her tiny portion of food curiously. "Still have a few pounds to lose so I can fit into my wedding dress," she explained, chuckling self-consciously. "God, I'll be glad when I can eat properly again. I've got Rhys on a diet too. He hates me."

When the room was silent for a long, awkward moment, Ianto realised it would be up to him to respond. He lowered his chopsticks and gave Gwen a warm smile. "I'm sure it will all be worth the effort."

"Yeah, I'm sure it will," Gwen agreed, smiling back. "Definitely not planning to do it again." She paused, looking at each of them. "So, you're all going to come to the wedding?"

Ianto saw Jack begin to open his mouth in response and gave him a firm kick to the shin to silence him, earning himself a dark glare in return. "Absolutely," he replied before Owen could interject a snide remark either. "We're looking forward to it."

"Yes, we are," Tosh agreed in support, much to Ianto's relief. "Thanks again for inviting us, Gwen." She gave Owen an impish smile. "Owen's even going to wear a suit."

"Yeah, well, they'd better be plenty of booze," Owen added, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork, but Ianto didn't miss the way the medic's features softened as he looked across at Tosh.

"So, where's the honeymoon, Gwen?" Jack asked, looking up from his food.

Gwen's face lit up. "We're going to Paris. Just for a few days, but I can't wait. I've always wanted to go."

Jack smiled, but Ianto noticed it didn't reach his eyes. "Very romantic. I'm sure you'll have a fantastic time."

Ianto nodded in agreement and also smiled at Gwen, but he felt a sharp stab of envy. He'd often thought he'd like to travel a bit someday and see some of the world he helped to protect. But the Rift would always require monitoring and the most he could hope for was the odd few hours outside the city, like the trip he and Jack had made to Porthcawl the previous week. Torchwood would always come first and the likelihood of him seeing Paris, or anywhere else for that matter, was slim to non-existent.

For the first time in a long while, he thought about what he'd given up, and just for a brief moment he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He was still young, only twenty-four years old, twenty-five in four months time, yet it seemed like his entire life was already mapped out. He was going to spend the rest of his days in a dank, underground lair, with a man who could never give him any genuine sense of security or commitment.

"_You deserve so much more," _Jack had said to him only a week earlier. The problem was, Ianto wanted the 'more' to be with Jack. Without Jack, it all seemed meaningless.

He felt a surge of guilt for allowing the treacherous thoughts to have taken form. He was happy being with Jack, he reminded himself firmly, and he'd been quite successful in embracing the unconventional life he'd chosen. He just supposed there would always be a small part of him that yearned for a more normal life... the kind of life Gwen had and probably took for granted. Even Tosh and Owen could have a normal life if they decided to someday, perhaps eventually leaving Torchwood behind in order to pursue a new life together. He'd never have that chance. With regret he realised how much he'd enjoy being able to travel with Jack and see some of the world. There were so many things he'd like to do with Jack, but would never have the chance.

Belatedly, he realised the monumental mistake he'd made in bringing Gwen into the team. It just wasn't for the reasons he'd originally thought. Her presence would be a constant reminder of everything they could never have, especially himself and Jack. On one hand, maybe they needed to be reminded of what they were fighting for, but on the other, perhaps it was too painful to have it constantly rubbed in their faces. It wasn't Gwen's fault, and he considered that it was unfair on her too, forcing her to juggle a normal life with the demands and dangers of working for Torchwood.

Realising the room had gone silent, he glanced at Jack. The other man was looking at him intently, his expression unreadable, but there was an unmistakable hint of sadness in his eyes. Self-consciously averting his gaze, he turned his attention to Tosh and Owen, who both looked wistful and lost in their own thoughts. He wondered if they were all thinking about the same things.

Gwen was looking at them all curiously. "I'm not being rude or anything, but... well, maybe I am, but... how do you switch off from all this stuff? What do you do to relax?"

"I torture people in happy relationships," Owen snarked.

"I like to read," Tosh said with a shrug.

"I watch James Bond films," Ianto supplied, thinking how sad and pathetic they must all seem. He gave Jack a quick smirk, hoping to get a teasing remark about his Bond fanaticism, but Jack's eyes were lowered and he didn't take the bait.

Suddenly, Jack stood up. "Back in a minute," he muttered, striding quickly to the door. "Gotta pee."

"And what about Jack?" Gwen asked after he'd left the room.

Ianto was preoccupied with looking worriedly at Jack's retreating form. Dragging his attention back to the others, he noticed Owen looking as if he was about to reply to Gwen's question.

"Jack likes to stand on rooftops," he interjected quickly, not wanting to hear Owen's undoubtedly colourful description of what he and Jack did in their spare time. Not that they'd been doing much of anything since the fairies incident, he thought dejectedly.

A perplexed frown formed across Gwen's brow. "What do you know about him? I checked. The only American on record with the name Captain Jack Harkness vanished in 1941, during the London Blitz. He was a volunteer with the Royal Air Force, but one day he failed to report for duty. Never seen again, presumed dead." She leaned in, her voice dropping in volume. "So, who is he really?"

Owen shrugged and continued to eat, while Ianto exchanged a glance with Tosh, both of them remaining silent. It didn't surprise him that Gwen had checked up on Jack, but it would be up to Jack to tell her about himself, if or when he was ready. Knowing Jack's feelings about Gwen, he doubted it would be any time soon though. Owen and Tosh wouldn't reveal anything, although they knew relatively little anyway, Jack having only divulged the barest of details out of necessity when they'd found out about his condition.

"You don't know anything?" Gwen asked incredulously, looking at each of them in turn.

"Not who he is, not where he's from," Owen replied, looking up at her. He gave Ianto a playful smirk before adding, "Nothing, except him being gay."

Gwen's eyes widened almost comically. "No, he's not. Really, do you think?"

"No," Tosh said, the mischievous twinkle in her eyes indicating she'd decided to play along. "Owen does. I don't."

"And I don't care," Ianto added indifferently, only barely managing to maintain a neutral expression. He felt a bit guilty about winding up Gwen, but the less charitable part of his nature thought she probably deserved it.

"Period military is not the dress code of a straight man," Owen continued, obviously enjoying himself.

"I think it suits him," Gwen said thoughtfully. "Sort of classic."

Ianto nodded in approval. Even with all the time he'd known Jack, he still loved to see him wearing his greatcoat.

"Exactly!" Tosh paused, giving Ianto a wicked smile. "I've watched him in action. He'll shag anything if it's gorgeous enough."

Ianto almost choked on the piece of chicken he'd just popped into his mouth. A rush of warmth flooded his cheeks as remembered the time Tosh had walked in on them late one night. He'd been sitting in Jack's lap, straddling the other man in the desk chair in his office, both of them shirtless and kissing furiously, his trousers unfastened and one of Jack's hands groping him beneath his underwear. He'd felt completely mortified at being seen by Tosh, while Jack had, predictably, been amused by the situation. After recovering from her initial shock, Tosh hadn't seemed to be in a hurry to look away, adding to Jack's amusement while Ianto had scrambled to cover himself up. Ever since that incident, he'd been particularly careful to double-check the Hub was empty before entertaining the notion of any after-hours workplace trysts.

Gwen's eyes seemed to grow even wider, if that was possible. "We know he's from America, right?"

"We don't even know that for sure," Owen replied, shaking his head.

"Maybe his identity's classified," Gwen suggested.

"Used to be something big in the CIA," Ianto said smoothly, beginning to enjoy himself. "That's what I reckon."

Gwen continued to look contemplative. "He must have his reasons for wanting to keep things secret."

Owen started snickering, then Tosh began laughing. "I can't do this, I'm sorry. I'm rubbish. I give up!" Owen blurted out.

"Owen set me off," Tosh added, between gasps of laughter.

Ianto rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite stop a wry smile from lifting the corners of his mouth. "Well, that lasted all of ten seconds."

Gwen frowned, her features darkening. "What are you lot on about? Is this some big joke?"

"Sorry, Gwen," Tosh said apologetically, the sincerity of her words somewhat diminished given her inability to keep a straight face. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Gwen asked, her frown growing deeper.

Owen snorted derisively. "And you call yourself a detective."

"Are you going to bloody tell me what's going on?" Gwen demanded, looking at them furiously.

Ianto decided to take pity on the confused Welshwoman. "Gwen... Jack's my partner. If you want to know about him, you'll have to ask him. It's not our place to tell you."

Gwen stared at him with an apparent mixture of astonishment and disbelief. "You and Jack are together? You're a couple?" she asked, looking at him incredulously. Ianto simply nodded in reply. "Sorry... um, it's just... I didn't realise. I didn't know you're gay."

"I'm not," Ianto said, a little more defensively than he'd intended. As much as he wouldn't deny his relationship with Jack to anyone, he refused to identify himself as gay. "Neither is Jack," he added, not wanting Gwen to get the wrong idea about Jack either.

"Joined at the bloody hip, those two," Owen commented, but not unkindly.

Gwen looked at Ianto in obvious confusion. "Oh. So, er... how long have you two been together then?"

"Three and a bit years," Ianto replied. "Depends how you work it out."

"Sorry?" Gwen asked, still looking bewildered.

"Jack's psycho ex-boyfriend almost killed Teaboy here," Owen explained. "Literally tried to snog him to death. He was on ice for ten months while I worked on a cure."

Ianto nodded. "Yep. Jack put me into cryo-freeze," he stated matter-of-factly.

"And Jack hired Owen to save Ianto," Tosh finished, pride in her voice as she smiled warmly at Owen.

"Wow," Gwen exclaimed, shaking her head. "This place is completely mad. You all know that, right?"

"Bloody barmy," Owen agreed, grinning widely.

"Brilliant though," Tosh added with a smile.

"Welcome to Torchwood," Ianto said, shrugging his shoulders and returning his attention to his food.


	41. Chapter 41

**********Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for gracefully reading my ramblings and for taking the time to offer invaluable feedback and encouragement. Enjoy...

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**Chapter Forty-One**

_**June 22nd, 2007**_

Ianto stood silently just beyond the threshold of the Millennium Centre's roof access, watching the solitary figure standing at the edge of the curving rooftop. Framed against the backdrop of a brilliant sunset, the view was breathtaking, the sky aglow with vivid hues of fiery orange, deep pink, violet and red, but Ianto was too preoccupied to truly appreciate the stunning vista.

It was just over two months since Gwen Cooper had begun her tenure at Torchwood Three. Despite her shaky beginning, she'd started to find her place, and thanks in part to some subtle guidance and encouragement, she was well on the way to becoming a valuable member of their small team. Jack had eventually begun to warm to her a little, and from what Ianto had observed they were now on amicable terms with one another, although Gwen's view on Jack seemed to swing wildly between hero-worship and abject condemnation.

Although the Welshwoman was experienced enough not to naïvely perceive situations as black and white, she sometimes lacked the detached pragmatism their job required, her heart overruling her head. Ianto couldn't blame her for that, and while her opinions were sometimes unwelcome, confronting, and delivered with a painful lack of sensitivity, they occasionally coincided with his own. Gwen didn't know about Jack's unique condition yet, but he hoped that once her trial period was complete he'd be able to convince Jack of the wisdom in telling her. Gwen was spirited and courageous, but she could be impulsive at times, and although he wanted someone to have Jack's back in the field, he wasn't comfortable with the idea of Gwen putting herself in danger unnecessarily.

Gwen's wedding was taking place the following day, and they'd been subjected to her pre-wedding anxieties all week. Ianto had spent most of the time working in the archives – most definitely not hiding, he'd reassured himself repeatedly – so he'd been the least affected. Feeling a bit guilty, he'd given Gwen the day off so she could attend to any last minute preparations, thereby extending her time away to ten days, and giving them all a welcome reprieve. After observing Gwen's seemingly endless dramas and histrionics, he was almost relieved that a wedding wasn't on the cards for himself. He'd decided that wrestling a rabid, blood-thirsty Weevil into submission was a far more pleasurable activity than planning a wedding. Either way, it wasn't a problem he'd ever have to deal with.

Two and a half months had passed since the fairies incident and Estelle's death, and he continued to worry about Jack's state of mind. On the surface, Jack seemed like his usual self again, and when they were together he continued to be attentive and affectionate. However, Jack was spending more time alone, either holed up in his office or disappearing for long hours to one of the many rooftops around the city. Jack wasn't staying the night as often as he'd used to, and even when they went to sleep together, Ianto would often wake to find him gone.

He knew Jack was suffering, the weight of loss and the prospect of unending life taking a terrible and increasing profound toll, but he was at a loss to know what to do to ease Jack's pain. He wanted to share Jack's burden, to somehow help to sooth his troubled soul, but any words he could think of seemed hopelessly inadequate. Even the simple reassurance that Jack wasn't alone seemed hollow and meaningless. For Jack, the world was a perpetual graveyard, the only certainty the torment of pain and loss.

As grateful as Ianto was for Jack's presence in his life, not a day went by when he didn't curse the Doctor's name. At the same time, he hoped the elusive alien would make an appearance soon. Jack had waited far too long, and he deserved answers. He needed an explanation for what had happened to him so long ago and why he'd been abandoned so callously. Ianto refused to consider the possibility that the Time Lord wouldn't eventually show up, although Jack seemed to grow increasingly pessimistic. He stubbornly held onto the hope that Jack would eventually get the answers and help he so desperately needed.

He continued to watch Jack for several minutes, unnerved as always by the man's proximity to the rooftop's edge. Shivering slightly in cool evening air, he shoved his hands deep inside his trouser pockets, and slowly made his way forwards. He came to a stop several feet behind Jack, remaining at a comfortably safe distance from the edge. He didn't announce himself, knowing Jack would be aware of his presence.

Jack was standing at the full height of his six foot stature, his shoulders squared and pushed back, his greatcoat accentuating the broad expanse of his back to perfection. The tails of the long coat fluttered around his legs in the light breeze, completing the imposing image. The sight caused Ianto's chest to swell with love, admiration, and affection. The depth of his feelings still caught him off guard sometimes, even after all their time together and everything they'd shared. He could still feel stunned and disconcerted if he stopped to think about the strange and unexpected path his life had taken, and the immeasurable impact of one truly remarkable man.

Jack looked heroic and resilient, indomitable and defiant, but Ianto knew the truth. He knew Jack could be all of those things, but he also knew how much of that was mere illusion. They were both a little too adept at retreating behind the masks they'd carefully fabricated – hiding themselves from the world when the alternative would have been unbearable.

Finally, Jack turned around and made his way to Ianto's side, framing himself against the spectacular view and unwittingly creating an even more captivating image. Ianto found himself trying to record every nuance of the scene in his mind, deciding it was important to hold onto that moment. Jack came to stop at his side, his arm wrapping around Ianto's waist and pulling him close.

"It's beautiful," Ianto whispered, thinking back to the sunrise they'd watched together almost three and a half years ago, after their fateful expedition to the Brecon Beacons. They'd been on the cusp of the tentative beginnings of their relationship, and in many ways it had been a pivotal moment, not that he'd had any idea at the time.

"Yeah," Jack murmured. "Yeah, it is."

"You okay?" Ianto asked hesitantly, stealing a glance at Jack's profile and noting the hard set of his jaw.

"I'm fine," Jack replied, a little brusquely.

Ianto stifled a frustrated sigh. "Have you ever..." He nodded towards the rooftop's edge, then looked at Jack again. "You know... um, jumped?"

Jack glanced at him sharply, clearly surprised by the non-apropos question. "Sure you want to know the answer?"

Ianto responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Jack shifted his gaze back to the horizon. "A few times. Before I met you." He paused, his eyes closing for a moment. "Just for those few seconds, that brief moment before death... I felt so... alive."

Ianto couldn't quite suppress his involuntary shudder. "And each time, you hoped you wouldn't come back," he said evenly, the words a statement, not a question.

Jack simply nodded.

Not for the first time, Ianto found himself wondering what it would feel like to know that no matter how bad things became, there was no way out. He'd had enough dark moments in his life to know there was a strange sense of comfort in realising the pain and despair wouldn't last forever, even when it felt like it was everything. For Jack, even that most basic choice of whether to live or die had been taken away from him.

"I've never asked you before. What's it like... when you die?" It was a question he'd avoided in the past, thinking it was something no one should know until it was time. But suddenly he found that he wanted to know... he wanted to try to better understand what it was like for Jack.

Jack didn't respond at first, but finally he breathed out a heavy sigh. "Dark... peaceful... silent. It's difficult to describe. There's still a sense of awareness, but it's not like being conscious. It's something else... something different." His voice trailed off. "But it never lasts long enough. I'm always dragged back too soon."

Ianto felt a shiver of unease travel along his spine as he considered Jack's words. He wasn't sure if he believed in the existence of anything beyond death, but he also didn't know if Jack actually passed over to the other side when he died, assuming there was something more. Jack's soul was anchored inexorably to the mortal plane, so it seemed reasonable to assume that he couldn't move on to any form of afterlife or rebirth, even briefly. It was possible that when Jack died, he was held in a kind of limbo before he came back, an indefinable state somewhere between life and death.

"I'm still terrified it won't work one day," he murmured, surprising himself by giving voice to his fears. "That the next time you die, you won't come back."

Jack tightened his grip around Ianto's waist. "I've been like this for almost a hundred and forty years now, Ianto. I'm pretty sure that whatever this is, it's permanent... forever." His voice dropped to little more than a tremulous whisper. "I'll always come back."

As selfish as he knew it was, and as much as he loathed himself for thinking it, Ianto hoped that was true. He wasn't ready to lose Jack. He didn't think he'd ever be ready to lose him.

His throat tight with emotion, he slid his right hand from his pocket and wrapped his arm around Jack, mirroring the other man's gesture. Silently they watched as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, the wash of brilliant colour giving way to indigo and deep shades of blue as darkness began to blanket the city.

Ianto wasn't sure how long they stood like that, simply holding onto each other. Eventually turning away from the panoramic view, he grasped Jack's hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Come on. Let's head home. I'll make us some dinner."

###

Ianto woke the following morning to find Jack pressed up against his side, fully awake, and staring down at him intently. Blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched out his limbs and shifted his hips, wincing slightly as he became aware of the soreness in several well-used parts of his body. But it was a good kind of sore, the kind that reminded him of the fantastic night they'd had together.

What had begun as an amiable game of strip poker had quickly become a battle of wills as they used every trick in their respective repertoires to rid each other of their clothing. Mixed with a little too much alcohol, that had led to several rounds of no holds barred naked twister, both of them playing dirty and cheating outrageously.

The ensuing sexual marathon had begun on the floor, proceeded to the sofa, and eventually concluded in the bedroom. As always, Jack's stamina had been impressive to say the least – another benefit of his extra few thousand years of evolution, Ianto suspected – and to his relief, Jack had seemed happier, his earlier melancholia apparently dispelled. Exhausted, satiated, and wrapped in the comforting warmth of Jack's body, he'd drifted into slumber, his worries temporarily banished.

"Morning," he muttered thickly, giving Jack a sleepy smile.

Jack leaned in and kissed him softly, stroking his cheek. "Hey. You okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ianto replied groggily. He glanced over at the alarm clock, then narrowed his eyes at Jack after noting it was almost eight o'clock. "You turned off our alarms again, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged." Jack pulled him closer and trailed a series of kisses along his stubbled jawline. "The Rift's quiet at the moment and we don't have to leave for the wedding until this afternoon. Thought we could have a nice morning together."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Ianto murmured, settling his head comfortably on Jack's shoulder and knowing it was pointless to resist, not that he actually wanted to.

"Yup." The mischievous note in Jack's voice was unmistakeable. His hand traced slowly down Ianto's chest and abdomen, finally settling over his crotch and beginning to gently stroke him.

Ianto moaned in response. Already aroused as he invariably was when waking up with Jack, it only took a moment until he was fiercely hard. "You're insatiable," he admonished, shifting his hips and pushing against Jack's hand.

"And you're not?" Jack asked with a soft chuckle. "Surely I don't need to remind you how many times I made you come last night?"

"I blame those pheromones of yours," Ianto retorted, groaning as Jack pushed him onto his back and began to suck on his right nipple. "They should come with a warning about inducing a state of sexual depravity."

Jack chuckled again, biting playfully at the hardened nub. "You're giving them far too much credit. That so-called depravity is all you. Anyway, you're a virile young man with a healthy sexual appetite. What's wrong with that?" He gave Ianto a long, teasing stroke. "Of course, I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't you dare," Ianto muttered, the words coming out in a low growl.

"And I rest my case," Jack said smugly. "Come here." He pulled Ianto on top of him, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss.

They spent the rest of the morning in bed, venturing out only briefly to use the bathroom and to retrieve sustenance from the kitchen, then returning to more pleasurable activities. Although Ianto felt a twinge of guilt over their hedonism when there was work to be done at the Hub, it was overshadowed by his relief that Jack seemed to be in better spirits. He couldn't completely ignore the niggling doubt that it might be little more than a brief reprieve, but he was determined to make the most of it for as long as it lasted.

Well and truly spent for the second time in less than twelve hours, Ianto held Jack close as they lay quietly together, Jack's head resting on his chest. "I almost wish we didn't have to go to the wedding," he murmured as he stroked his fingers through Jack's hair. "I bet Gwen's in quite a state. Hope it all goes smoothly for her though."

Jack tilted his head up to meet Ianto's eyes, and Ianto settled his hand on the back of Jack's neck. "Do you ever think about getting married someday?" Jack asked. "Maybe having some kids?"

"Not really," Ianto replied lightly, not wanting to admit that Gwen's nuptials had indeed brought up some unwelcome thoughts along those lines. He gave Jack a teasing smirk. "And unless you've been secretly shopping for engagement rings, it's not the most likely of possibilities."

Jack shook his head, looking at him sadly. "I wish I could give you more."

"I was joking, Jack," Ianto said quickly.

"I know, but..." Jack began.

"Jack, I'm happy with the way things are," Ianto said firmly, holding the other man's gaze. He hated when Jack berated himself for things that were beyond his control. He'd made his choice, and while it was only human nature to occasionally consider the roads untravelled, no relationship was perfect. He was certain that what he'd gained from being with Jack outweighed anything he might have potentially given up. "I wouldn't trade this for anything," he continued. "Getting married and having kids is hardly a guarantee for happiness."

"No, it's not," Jack agreed, but doubt lingered in his eyes. He sighed deeply, then reached up to cradle Ianto's face. "Ianto, you know I love you, right? You know how much you mean to me?"

Ianto was surprised by Jack's sudden, insistent acknowledgement of his feelings. They knew how they felt about each other, but it was exceedingly rare for either of them to say the words aloud. It just wasn't in their natures to be overly effusive about their emotions.

He wondered why Jack had felt the need to say the words now, but he smiled and nudged Jack's head closer until their lips met in a soft kiss. "We love each other, Jack. I don't think that's ever going to change. At least not for me."

"Not for me either," Jack said in barely a whisper, before claiming Ianto's mouth in a demanding, almost desperate, kiss.

It was several minutes later when they finally pulled apart. Ianto glanced at the clock and sighed dejectedly. He would have liked nothing more than to spend the rest of the day in bed with Jack, but reality beckoned.

Reluctantly, he began climbing to his feet, tugging on Jack's hand as he did so. "Come on. We need to shower and get ready. Gwen will kill us if we're late."

Jack just stretched himself out languidly across the bed, apparently ill-disposed to getting up. "We could always say there was a Rift alert? Hoard of rampaging Weevils on the loose?" he suggested.

Ianto rolled his eyes, although he had to admit the thought had crossed his mind. But he knew Tosh would see right through such an obvious ruse, and she'd be furious with them. He didn't relish the idea of being on the receiving end of Tosh's wrath.

"If you get up, I'll let you pick out my shirt and tie," he offered, smiling inwardly and knowing he'd already won the battle.

Jack looked up at him doubtfully. "Really?"

"Yup." Ianto tugged on his hand again. "Come on."

Jack sighed, but he climbed to his feet. He gave Ianto a mischievous grin. "I think I'll pick the pink shirt. I love seeing you in pink."

Ianto shook his head with fond amusement. "You're so predictable."

"I am not!" Jack protested, scowling at him petulantly.

With a smug grin, Ianto pushed Jack forward and into the bathroom. "Into the shower, Jack. We need to get you looking presentable. We've got a wedding to go to."_**  
**_


	42. Chapter 42

**********Author's Notes:** A nice long chapter just in time for the weekend. Enjoy! Thank you so much to everyone who very kindly took the time to review the last chapter, including the guest reviews who I can't reply to individually (and if you have an account here, please log-in before reviewing so I can reply to your comments). And thanks as always to Prothrombintime for greatly appreciated encouragement and feedback.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Two**

_**June 23rd, 2007**_

Sitting at the end of a row of seats alongside Jack, Tosh and Owen, Ianto watched on as Gwen and Rhys exchanged their marriage vows. The venue was perfect and Gwen looked lovely in her flowing white wedding dress, her long black hair swept up and stylishly arranged in loose curls. The large gathering of family and friends all appeared to be in good spirits for the occasion, and the mild summer day was ideal, having allowed the attendees to socialise in the gardens before the ceremony began inside.

They'd briefly met Rhys and Ianto thought he seemed like a good bloke – down to earth and easy going, solidly built, although noticeably overweight despite Gwen's dieting efforts, and unashamedly very Welsh. He'd shaken hands enthusiastically with all of them, clearly nervous but excited, and seemingly pleased to finally meet Gwen's new "special ops" colleagues.

Ianto hadn't missed the way Rhys had eyed both himself and Jack with a distinct lack of subtlety. Feeling a familiar sense of resignation, he'd imagined Gwen animatedly telling her husband-to-be about the gay couple she worked with. He'd noticed with a degree of amusement how Gwen sometimes looked at himself and Jack, as if she couldn't quite figure out the dynamics of their relationship. And he was certain that the Welshwoman continued to be infatuated with Jack, even if she'd never admit it.

He and Jack were both wearing the bespoke suits Jack had bought for their first date. Ianto was wearing a pink shirt at Jack's insistence, paired with a coordinating black and pink stripped tie, while Jack was attired in the dark blue shirt Ianto had selected for him, along with a matching blue tie. Jack looked as stunning as ever, the colours and tailoring of the suit accentuating his handsome features and enviable physique. In Ianto's wholly unbiased opinion, Jack easily outshone everyone else in attendance.

Everything was perfect for the happy couple and he was genuinely pleased for Gwen. But it was with sadness and a heavy heart that he remembered a time when he thought it might have one day been himself and Lisa pledging their lifelong commitment to each another. Even after he and Lisa had parted ways, he'd assumed he would eventually find someone else, and he'd hoped marriage would still be a possibility for him someday. That was until he'd begun what was supposed to have been a casual, mutually convenient, no strings attached arrangement with Jack. Their relationship had evolved into something far more serious than either of them had expected, effectively precluding his chance of normality or a conventional life. He'd never marry or have a family of his own; instead, he'd probably die an early and unpleasant death, or if fate was a little kinder, he'd die old and alone. His life was irrevocably intertwined with Jack and Torchwood, and there was no escape from that simple, indisputable fact.

He glanced over at Owen, noting the sad, wistful expression on the other man's face. He knew it had to be hard for him after everything he'd lost. Tosh was firmly holding his hand, and she also seemed shrouded in melancholy as she watched the proceedings. Reaching for Jack's hand, Ianto grasped it in his own, meeting the other man's eyes briefly before turning his gaze back to Gwen and Rhys. He felt a reassuring squeeze of Jack's hand in response. There had been a look of intense sadness in Jack's expressive eyes, and he wondered if the other man also secretly longed for a more normal life. Jack's suggestion of fabricating an excuse to avoid attending the wedding suddenly seemed liked a very good idea.

Gwen and Rhys exchanged rings and completed their vows, smiled lovingly at each other, and then kissed tenderly. Ianto forced a smile to his face, surprised to feel tears forming in his eyes. Blinking to clear them, he tightened his grip on Jack's hand, realising that a part of him was mourning the life he'd never have.

"You okay?" Jack murmured into his ear.

Not trusting himself to speak, Ianto just nodded in reply, his eyes remaining fixed on the newly married couple.

###

It was later that evening and Ianto was sitting at their table in the large, tastefully decorated reception room. Lost in his thoughts, he distractedly watched the couples on the dance floor. One of Gwen's bridesmaids seemed to have taken a fancy to him, and she'd tried to coerce him into dancing with her several times, but he'd politely and repeatedly declined. As he continued to watch the dancers, he realised the last person he'd danced with had been Lisa. She loved dancing and had always been making him watch dance competitions on the television. Although she'd attempted to teach him some basic steps, it hadn't come naturally to him, and she'd regularly bemoaned his proverbial two left feet.

Gwen had dragged Jack onto the dance floor a few minutes earlier and they appeared to be chatting amiably as they danced. Jack's eyes met briefly with Ianto's, and Jack gave him a playful wink. Ianto smiled in return and continued to watch them. Gwen asked Jack something, and his reply was accompanied by a mischievous smile, causing her to laugh.

Nearby, Tosh and Owen were also dancing together. Tosh looked gorgeous in her flattering, lilac coloured dress, and the usually scruffy Owen was almost unrecognisable in his neat grey suit with a white shirt and deep purple tie. Proving to be a surprisingly nimble dancer, he was smiling at Tosh and looked genuinely happy. Despite his own maudlin thoughts, it warmed Ianto's heart to see his friends happy together. Toshiko was undoubtedly a positive influence on their gruff medic, smoothing out his rough edges and helping him to move on from his painful past.

Rhys moved towards Jack and Gwen, and he cut in on them, his expression suggesting he didn't particularly like the idea of his new wife dancing with her handsome boss. Ianto couldn't really blame him for that, and Jack tended to be intimidating for even the most self-assured of men. Jack gave the stout Welshman a disarming grin, then turned towards Tosh and Owen. The medic nodded at Jack and moved off towards the bar, and Jack took Tosh into his arms, spinning her around gracefully. Ianto smiled at the pair as he watched them dance, feeling a rush of affection for both of them.

Owen returned to their table, carrying two glasses of beer. He passed one to Ianto before slumping down unceremoniously in the chair next to him. "Looks like you could use that," he said, clinking his glass against Ianto's. "Cheers."

"Thanks, Owen. Cheers." Ianto quickly downed a generous mouthful of the cold, amber liquid.

"You all right, mate?" Owen asked, looking at him curiously.

Ianto replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Even if he had of wanted to explain the reasons for his melancholy mood to Owen, he didn't think he would been able to find the words. He wasn't sure he understood it himself. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" he asked by way of deflection.

"Well, the booze definitely helps," Owen said dryly, taking a mouthful to prove his point. "I'm happy for Gwen, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I've always hated weddings. Everyone's too bloody happy. It's unnatural."

Ianto chuckled, unable to disagree. Everyone did seem too bloody cheerful. "Think you might ever consider it again?" he asked cautiously.

"Dunno... maybe," Owen replied, looking pensive. "Tosh is amazing and if things work out... we're taking it slow, but if we eventually get to that point... well, I'd want her to be happy." He frowned sightly. "Never thought I'd consider it again, not after Katie. But things change I guess. She'd want me to be happy, and she would have loved Tosh." His features twisted into a contemptuous expression. "Not a big fuss like this though. Just something quiet and simple."

Ianto smiled at him. "You and Tosh are good for each other."

Owen sighed heavily. "I'm just scared I'm going to screw it up," he muttered, taking another mouthful of beer.

"You won't," Ianto assured him. "Me and Jack will make sure of that. We'll keep you in line." He gave Owen a teasing smile.

Owen snorted derisively in reply. He looked over at Tosh and Jack, nodding towards them. "So, why aren't you up there dancing with lover boy?"

"Wasn't really in the mood," Ianto replied, trying to sound casual. "Besides, I've never danced with a bloke before. Not sure how it's meant to work."

He cringed inwardly at the feeble excuse, but the day was proving challenging enough without having a roomful of strangers staring at him and whispering behind his back. Feeling a surge of guilt and shame, he admonished himself for being so superficial. Jack deserved better, he told himself firmly, especially with the difficult time he'd been having lately.

"Can't be that hard," Owen commented, finishing off his beer. "And it might help cheer you the bloody hell up. Go on, mate. Doctor's orders."

Ianto rolled his eyes at the other man, but he'd already made his decision. He didn't want to hurt Jack, and he suspected he'd later regret passing up on the opportunity. "Sod it," he muttered, quickly finishing his drink and rising to his feet.

He strode determinedly over to Jack and Tosh. "May I... erm..." He nervously cleared his throat, looking at Tosh and then Jack.

Tosh smiled at him warmly, extricating herself from Jack's arms. "He's all yours, Ianto. I'd better check on Owen anyway."

Ianto watched as she made her way back to their table, then turned to Jack and moved closer. "Um... I'm not sure how to do this. I've never danced with a man before."

Jack smiled affectionately, then pulled him into his arms. "You're a clever guy," he said teasingly. "I'm sure you can figure it out." He took Ianto's right hand, lacing their fingers together and holding their hands against his chest, then placed his other hand on Ianto's back. "Just follow my lead, okay?"

Ianto nodded, tentatively wrapping his left arm around Jack's waist. "I was starting to think you didn't want to dance with me," Jack murmured.

"No, I wanted to... I just..." Ianto trailed off awkwardly. "It's been a long time since I danced with anyone," he finally admitted.

"Me too." Jack pulled him closer and guided them in a slow turn.

Ianto caught a glimpse of Tosh smiling at them, and Owen was giving him a nod of approval. Various people both on the dance floor and around the room were staring at them, some of the looks merely curious, while others were clearly disapproving. In particular, Rhys' mother was looking at them from the other side of the room with a shocked expression.

Feeling a little spiteful, and determined not to give a damn what anyone else thought, Ianto pulled back just far enough to meet Jack's eyes. Raising his hand, he cradled Jack's face and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. Then he pressed himself up against Jack again, grasping his hand and resuming their previous close embrace.

They swayed together to the slow melody of the music, the lyrics filtering into Ianto's thoughts and seeming particularly poignant. '_You do something to me, somewhere deep inside...'_

He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Jack's, just enjoying being close to the other man. He felt Jack's lips press against his neck, and he smiled in response. For a few precious moments the rest of the world slipped away, and he thought of nothing else but the depth of his feelings for the beautiful man in his arms.

"What were you joking with Gwen about?" he asked curiously, reluctantly pulling back to look into Jack's eyes again as the song came to an end.

"Oh, she asked me what I'll be doing while she was away. I told her the truth. The usual... pizza... you..." Jack laughed and kissed Ianto's cheek. "...save the world a couple of times."

Ianto rolled his eyes with fond amusement. "Glad you've got your priorities sorted," he quipped, smiling at Jack. "I don't think she knows what to make of us."

"Watching us tonight should give her something to think about." The next song began to play, and Jack pulled Ianto in close again. "Keep dancing with me? I'm not ready for this to be over yet."

There was something in Jack's voice that caused Ianto to pull back and look into the other man's eyes again. He was startled to find profound sadness in Jack's features, and the glistening of unshed tears in Jack's eyes tore at his heart. He realised the wedding had taken a heavy emotional toll on Jack as well.

Wanting to offer comfort to the man he loved, he reached up and tenderly caressed Jack's face. Jack closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. They stayed that way for a moment, then Ianto pressed his cheek against Jack's again, relishing the sensation of the warm, smooth skin against his own.

"Me neither," he whispered as they resumed moving slowly in time with the music.

###

Ianto entered the Hub early the following morning and headed for the coffee machine. The drive home from the wedding the night before had been unusually quiet, with Jack pensive and seemingly lost in his thoughts. They'd only just entered the apartment when a Rift alert came through. Jack had quickly changed out of his suit and into his usual attire, then headed off to investigate, refusing Ianto's offer to accompany him.

With only his troubled thoughts for companionship, Ianto had tossed and turned all night, unable to properly settle down. He hadn't been able to shake the look of intense sadness he'd seen in Jack's eyes the night before, and he wasn't sure what sort of mood he'd find the other man in with the beginning of a new day. Their happy, carefree morning together the day before now seemed very far away.

He found Jack sitting motionless in his office, looking sad and wistful. He gave Ianto a wan smile and nodded to the empty chair opposite him as Ianto put their mugs of coffee down on the desk. Easing himself into the chair, he looked at Jack worriedly, noting the man's weary, haggard appearance. "Everything all right, Jack?" he asked hesitantly.

Jack shook his head, rubbing his hand roughly over his face, and suddenly looking deeply distressed. "No... no, it's not." He took a slow shuddering breath. "Ianto... I don't think I can do this anymore."

Ianto frowned in confusion. "Do what?"

"Us," Jack replied.

Ianto froze, a cold numbness spreading over him as he stared dumbly at Jack, his mind reeling. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat, he tried again. "What... what are you talking about?"

"I watched you yesterday at Gwen's wedding. I saw the sadness in your eyes, the wistful look on your face." Jack shook his head, looking wretched. "You deserve so much more, Ianto... so much more than I can ever give you. As long as you're with me, you can never have the life you want. I'm denying you a better life and I don't think I can live with that."

Ianto stared in horror at Jack, unable to believe what he was hearing. "No," he argued. "Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. Only yesterday you told me you loved me. Was that a lie?"

"Of course it wasn't," Jack replied tersely. "I'd never lie to you about that." He abruptly stood up and paced across to the doorway, keeping his gaze averted from Ianto's. He stared out at the Hub for a long moment, then eventually looked back at Ianto. "I can be a selfish bastard, I know that. But I love you too much to let you waste your life on me. I'm not worth it, Ianto. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Ianto said insistently. He rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of Jack, desperate for the other man to listen to reason. "Meeting you... it changed my life... gave me meaning."

"But it's not enough. It shouldn't be enough," Jack protested, irritation seeping into his voice. "Surely you realise that? Don't you want more than this?" He gestured vaguely around them. "Marriage, maybe kids... a proper home, security... someone to grow old with." He moved back to his desk and leaned against the edge, his shoulders slumped. "Isn't that what you were thinking about yesterday?"

"I was thinking that my life has turned out differently than I'd expected," Ianto replied, choosing his words carefully. He moved to stand in front of Jack again. "I know we can never have what Gwen and Rhys have. I don't care. I belong here, Jack... with you."

"And if we stay together? If Torchwood doesn't take you from me... what happens when one day you realise you look older than me?" Jack paused, looking at him sadly. "And when you look ten years older than me? Twenty years? How will you feel then? You'll resent me. Eventually you'll hate me... you'll grow to hate what I am."

"No, listen to me, Jack," Ianto said, hearing the desperation in his voice but not caring. "That's not true. I could never hate you."

"You can't know that," Jack argued. "It's easy to say that now."

"But you're talking about years from now. We don't know what will happen. All we can do is enjoy the time we have. That's all anyone can do." Ianto took a deep breath. "And when I'm gone, you'll move on. Find someone new to love."

Jack shook his head, looking defeated. "I can't."

Ianto took a step back, his despair overpowered by a surge of hot anger. "So your answer is to abandon me? Toss me aside like I mean nothing to you?"

"No, Ianto." Jack rubbed roughly at the tears forming in his eyes. "You mean everything to me, you know that. I'm not abandoning you... I'm setting you free."

Ianto stared at Jack in disbelief. "And what the hell gives you the right to choose my life for me? Don't I get a say? This... us... this is my choice. This is what I want." He narrowed his eyes at Jack contemptuously. "You're a lot of things, Jack, but I never thought you were a coward. This isn't about me at all, is it?"

"Maybe you're right." Jack rose up, staring at Ianto defiantly. "So, tell me, Ianto... how many more people do I have to lose? How much more can I endure?" He let out a choked sob, tears now falling unheeded down his face. "The thought of losing you is unbearable. But the thought of you giving up everything you should have just to be with me is worse."

"And pushing me away is better?" Ianto demanded. "You'd rather be alone again?"

"Yes," Jack murmured, lowering his gaze.

"You fucking bastard," Ianto muttered, turning away as his own tears began to fall.

"Ianto, please... try to understand." Jack's hand touched Ianto's shoulder, but Ianto angrily shook him off, stepping away from his reach. "You're everything I ever wanted. To let you go is killing me."

Ianto turned back to look at him. "Good thing it won't stick then, isn't it?" he spat viciously.

Jack reeled backwards as if he'd been punched in the face, and Ianto immediately regretted his harsh, thoughtless words. "I wish it would," Jack muttered.

A heavy, unbearable silence settled between them as they looked at each other with tear-filled eyes. Finally, Ianto broke the silence, struck by a sudden realisation. "Last night when we were dancing," he said, in little more than a whisper. "You'd decided then, hadn't you?"

Jack simply nodded.

"So, that's it, is it?" Ianto asked, but his anger had lost its edge. "After everything we've been through together. You just want to throw it all away."

"I think it's for the best," Jack said quietly. "This way we can remember what we had while it was still good, and you can move on. You're still so young, Ianto. It's not too late for you to have the life you deserve."

"But that isn't what I want." Ianto stepped closer to Jack and reached for his hand. "Jack... I want to spend my life with you."

"I want that too." Jack was staring down at their joined hands. "But as long as I'm the way I am, we can't have that. You're too damn self-sacrificing, so that's why I have to do this." He slowly let go of Ianto's hand, tracing his fingers along Ianto's until the contact was finally broken. "I'm sorry, Ianto. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I can't... I can't be here." Ianto stepped away, shaking his head. "I can't look at you anymore."

Turning away, Ianto strode out of Jack's office and made a hasty retreat towards the cogwheel door, his legs shaking and feeling like they would collapse from beneath him at any moment.

"Ianto, wait!" Jack's voice called after him. "Ianto!"

Not looking back, Ianto hurried from the Hub. Once he was above ground again, he collapsed onto a nearby bench. Burying his face in his hands, he tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. As confusion, anger and despair battled for dominance, a tiny part of him wondered if Jack was right. He loved Jack too much to want to be another source of pain and heartache.

But he didn't want Jack to be alone, and he couldn't imagine finding anyone else who could make him feel the way Jack did. He didn't want Jack to set him free, and a future without his best friend and partner seemed unbearably bleak and very, very lonely.

He almost jumped when his phone suddenly started to ring. He grabbed it from his pocket and blindly answered the call, a part of him hoping it was Jack calling to say it had all been a terrible mistake. Instead, he was startled to hear a voice he hadn't heard in almost three years.

"Lisa?" he said in disbelief, while rubbing roughly at his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He listened with increasing alarm to what Lisa had to say, then made a quick decision. "Okay. I'm coming to London. I'll... uh... I'll be there tonight. I'll call you when I arrive."

Abruptly disconnecting the call, he switched off his phone, then rose to his feet and headed for his car. Getting himself away from Cardiff, and therefore Jack, was suddenly very appealing. Perhaps if they had some time apart, Jack might come to his senses, he thought hopefully.

He wasn't yet willing to consider the alternative.


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is a bit lighter after the last one. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering support and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Three**

_**October 23rd, 2008**_

Jack took a sip from his cup of coffee, and was puzzled once again as he tried to figure out what precisely was wrong with it. The flavour was actually very good, but the elusive feeling that something was missing continued to prickle at the furthest edges of his mind. It was a increasingly familiar sensation, and one he knew he'd have to get used to, but it was frustrating nonetheless. He'd really done a number on himself by taking such a strong dose of retcon, he thought ruefully.

Turning his attention to the jam donut sitting invitingly on the plate in front of him, he glanced up at his companion, who he was surprised to find was looking at the innocuous pastry with a disproportionate degree of interest.

"Looks good, huh?" He nudged the plate across the table. "Want some? We can share. I don't mind."

Dylan shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Had a big lunch."

Jack looked at the young man sceptically. "You're sure?"

"Yup." Dylan nudged the plate back towards Jack, then took a sip from his own cup of coffee.

Jack shrugged and devoured a mouthful of the donut. Licking a blob of jam from his thumb, he gave Dylan a teasing smile. "Are you always this stubborn?"

Dylan frowned. "I'm Welsh," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, yeah, believe me, I've noticed. All those beautiful Welsh vowels," Jack said appreciatively, grinning at the other man, then taking another bite from the donut.

"Do you always flirt with everyone you meet?" Dylan asked, raising an eyebrow, his wry expression suggesting he was more amused than offended.

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. It's kind of my thing." He paused uncertainly. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really. As long as you don't get any funny ideas." Dylan's striking blue eyes gazed at Jack appraisingly. "I'm not..." He broke off awkwardly, a flicker of confusion passing over his features, then vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. "I... er... I don't like men... not like that."

"Fair enough." Jack stuffed the rest of the donut into his mouth, hoping he'd managed to hide his disappointment.

Dylan was undeniably handsome, gorgeous in fact, and Jack doubted he'd have been able to resist acting on his attraction if the Welshman had shown any reciprocal interest. He'd continued to deny himself physical gratification since waking up to his new reality, but he couldn't figure out exactly why. That in itself was disconcerting for a man with his considerable sexual appetite, and although he was beginning to feel the need keenly, the idea of seeking out a random bed partner continued to be unappealing. However, being in the presence of such an attractive and desirable young man was testing his resolve. He wasn't built for celibacy, and it was an issue he'd have to deal with, probably sooner rather than later.

It was the fourth consecutive day of meeting Dylan for coffee and conversation, and although their budding friendship was a welcome distraction from his troubles, he'd also found the intriguing young man difficult to shift from his thoughts. Beyond the man's physical appeal, there was something indefinable about him that Jack felt drawn to, an explicable sense of comfort... a feeling of having found something he hadn't even known he'd lost.

Dylan was quiet and reserved in nature, and he hadn't been particularly forthcoming about himself or his past. The only detail he'd volunteered was that he'd recently returned to London, having gone home to Wales for a period of time after his girlfriend's death.

But with a little persistence, Jack had also learned that the Welshman was currently unemployed, apparently between jobs, lived on his own in an apartment in the city not far from Canary Wharf, and that both of his parents were deceased and he had no other family. Jack was curious to know more about the young man, but it suited him not to feel obliged to reveal too much about himself, and he didn't relish the idea of fabricating a tapestry of lies. While he was perfectly adept at subterfuge, having perfected the art several lifetimes ago during his misguided time as a conman, he found to his surprise that he didn't want to lie to the other man. So instead, he'd simply supplied that he too was on his own, without any family, and had also recently returned to London with the intention of starting afresh, having alluded vaguely to a painful past he wished to forget. While carefully lacking in detail, he'd assured himself that at least none of what he'd revealed was an outright lie.

If he was feeling fanciful, he might have considered that he'd become rather smitten with the younger man. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to feel the stirrings of infatuation, having learned slowly and painfully to harden his heart as the decades passed him by. Instead, he'd settled for purely physical assignations to temper the worst of his loneliness, not allowing emotional attachments that would inevitably end in heartache to get in the way. He hadn't always been successful, but he'd convinced himself that no matter how intense the loneliness became, it was always better than the alternative. Anything was better than the relentless pain of losing everyone he ever cared about.

He had to keep reminding himself that everything was different now, and after almost one-hundred and forty years, his life was finite once again. He was now growing a little older every day, just like everyone else. In theory, he could find someone to spend his life with... someone to grow old with... someone to love without fear or reservation. He wondered if that was even possible after so long, if the association of love and loss was so deeply etched into his soul that it was impossible to erase. He wondered if he could find the courage to let someone into his heart again.

Mentally shaking himself, he pulled away from his sombre thoughts to find Dylan looking at him with a concerned expression. "James? Are you all right?"

Jack nodded and smiled wryly. "Yeah, sorry. Just drifted away for a moment."

Dylan's continued to look at him worriedly, but then his expression cleared, and he gave Jack a small smile in return. He picked up a white paper napkin with his long, lean fingers and passed it across the table. "You've, um... you've got jam on your chin."

Jack took the napkin, and giving into temptation, he allowed his fingers to briefly brush against the other man's. Just for a moment he wished he could grasp hold of Dylan's hand and feel the warm, pale skin against his own.

"Thanks," he said, wiping ruefully at his face, then screwing up the napkin into a tight ball and dropping it onto the now empty plate. For as long as he could remember, he'd always been a messy eater. He supposed some habits were just too hard to break.

"So, I was thinking of going to the theatre this afternoon," he said in a casual, conversational tone. "There's one not far from here." He looked at Dylan hopefully. "Feel like coming with me?"

Dylan blinked, his eyes widening slightly in what appeared to be mild surprise. "What are you going to see?" he asked, his curiosity apparently piqued.

"Don't know," Jack replied with a shrug. "Just thought I'd see what takes my fancy when I get there."

Dylan took a sip of his coffee as he looked at Jack with a contemplative expression. "The new Bond film started yesterday."

"Well, we could see that if you like," Jack suggested easily, feeling a little thrill of anticipation at the prospect of spending the rest of the afternoon in the company of the other man. "Sounds like fun."

"I've been wanting to see it." A sad, wistfulness crept into Dylan's expressive eyes, and Jack wondered if he was thinking about his dead girlfriend. "It's been a while since I've gone to the cinema."

"So, is that a yes?" Jack asked, trying to sound casually indifferent, but certain he was failing spectacularly.

Dylan nodded, the hint of a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Yes... yes."

###

They exited the cinema several hours later, Dylan expounding in intricate detail about the finer points of the film's storyline, picking up on subtle nuances that had passed Jack by unnoticed. He'd enjoyed the film though, and he'd been amused to find Dylan spellbound throughout, his eyes never drifting from the screen. The Welshman clearly took his interest in James Bond very seriously. Although Jack had seem some of the films in the past, and had even met one of the actors once, he wasn't a connoisseur like Dylan. He couldn't help but find the other man's understated enthusiasm both beguiling and infectious.

"So, I take it you enjoyed the movie?" he asked, just a hint of teasing in his voice.

"Yep. Brilliant," Dylan replied earnestly, either not detecting Jack's good-natured gibe, or choosing to ignore it. Jack suspected the later, doubting there was much that slipped by the other man's notice. "I'll have to see it again. You always find things you missed with a second viewing."

Given the man's seemingly remarkable attention to detail, Jack found that hard to believe. "Just once more?"

Dylan looked thoughtful. "Maybe twice."

Jack laughed, shaking his head in amusement. He realised it was the first time since his strange new life had begun that he'd genuinely laughed, without it feeling forced. It felt good... really good.

It was early evening and they'd been walking down the busy London street for several minutes. Jack wasn't sure where they were heading, but he wasn't ready to part company with the other man quite yet. He'd actually had a very enjoyable afternoon, much to his surprise given his current circumstances.

"Want to get something to eat?" he suggested, looking for an excuse to extend their time together, and not relishing the thought of returning to his empty hotel room. "Some dinner? My treat."

Dylan looked a little surprised by the suggestion, but not displeased, Jack was relieved to note. "All right. What do you fancy?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm easy. How about you?"

"Pizza? There's a decent place near my building. It's not too far from here." Dylan looked at Jack with a strangely curious expression. "We can go back to mine to eat if you like?"

"Sure. Sounds good." Jack smiled warmly at the Welshman. "Lead the way."

###

Dylan ushered Jack into the apartment, closing the door behind them. He slid off his woollen coat and hung it up neatly, then pulled off his shoes, lining them up on the floor against the wall directly beneath the coat rack. He then took the large pizza box from Jack and put it down on the coffee table in front of the nearby black leather sofa. "Make yourself comfortable, James."

Following the other man's lead, Jack tugged off his leather jacket and hung it up beside Dylan's coat, stretching out his upper body as he gazed around the modern, sparsely decorated, and impeccably neat apartment. He was startled to find that it reminded him of the disused apartment he'd left behind in Cardiff, the layout and sleek, contemporary style remarkably similar.

Slipping off his boots and absently arranging them neatly next to Dylan's, he strolled over to a bookcase on the opposite side of the open-plan living area. Meanwhile, Dylan disappeared through one of the two nearby doors running off a short passageway, and into what Jack assumed was the bathroom. The sound of running water a moment later confirmed his supposition. He perused Dylan's substantial DVD collection, unsurprised to find it included every Bond movie, all neatly lined up in chronological order.

Dylan reappeared and gestured into the room he'd just vacated. "Bathroom's just there if you want to wash your hands or use the loo."

He then busied himself in the small kitchen tucked in beside the entrance to the apartment. Jack noticed the gleaming and obviously expensive coffee machine that took up a substantial section of one end of the kitchen's compact bench-top.

Taking that as his cue, Jack went into the bathroom and quickly made use of the facilities. After washing his hands and splashing some water on his face, he couldn't resist taking a quick peek inside the small cabinet under the basin. Inside he found an wide array of tidily arranged grooming products, a shaving kit, a red toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste squeezed perfectly from the end. Clearly Dylan's tidy, meticulous nature encompassed all aspects of his life, and while it was a stark contrast to Jack's more unfussy, carefree approach, he couldn't help but find the Welshman's fastidiousness oddly endearing. Against his better judgement, he was eager to learn more about the enigmatic young man.

"Nice place," he commented as he exited the bathroom, smiling to himself and looking across at the other man.

"Thanks." Dylan placed plates and napkins on the coffee table, then retrieved two bottles of beer from his refrigerator and deftly popped them open. "It's a bit small, but since it's just me, it's fine." He passed Jack one of the bottles, clinking his own against it. "Here you go. Cheers."

"Cheers." Jack took a mouthful from his bottle, and they sat down on the sofa, turning their attention to the pizza.

Jack watched with amusement as Dylan unfolded a napkin and tucked it into the collar of his dark red shirt. "What?" Dylan asked, frowning as he carefully extracted a slice of pizza from the box and put it onto his plate.

Jack grinned, grabbing a slice for himself. "You're kind of a neat-freak, aren't you?"

Dylan huffed indignantly. "No. I just like things to be tidy. What's wrong with that?" He gazed at Jack with a hint of challenge in his eyes.

"Nothing," Jack assured him, struggling to hold back a laugh. "Nothing at all. Actually, it's rather..." He was about to say 'adorable', but caught himself, deciding it was probably inappropriate, especially given the younger man's earlier admonishment. "It's very admirable," he said instead.

Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly, probably trying to decide if Jack was winding him up. He gestured at Jack's plate. "Eat your pizza before it gets cold."

"Yes, sir," Jack replied cheekily, biting off a generous mouthful of pizza and chewing enthusiastically, earning himself an eye-roll from the other man.

###

After the pizza was consumed, along with a second round of beers, Dylan stood up and carried their plates, bottles and the empty pizza box over to the kitchen. "Coffee?" he asked, glancing at Jack.

"Absolutely," Jack replied. "Need a hand?"

"No, I'm fine." Dylan had begun operating the coffee machine. "Put the telly on if you like."

Grabbing the remote from where it was lined up with the edge of the coffee table, Jack settled back and idly flicked through the channels, leaving the volume on low. He felt oddly content, much to his surprise. He was enjoying having someone to spend time with, and he genuinely liked Dylan, finding the young man to be good company, and appreciating his undemanding, not overly inquisitive nature. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so alone, and although loneliness was a state he'd become well accustomed with over the years, unexpectedly finding himself a new friend was a very welcome stroke of good fortune.

Dylan returned to the sofa, carrying two white mugs of steaming coffee, and passing one to Jack before sitting down next to him. "Careful it's hot," he cautioned.

"Thanks." Jack smiled and raised the mug to his face, appreciatively breathing in the strong aroma. "Mmm, this smells delicious," he murmured, blowing across the surface of the liquid and taking a tentative sip, once again expecting to feel that odd little pang of disappointment as the coffee hit his taste buds.

To his complete astonishment, the coffee was perfect, and he didn't feel the familiar hint of disappointment. "Wow!" he said, his eyes widening as he took another sip, thinking that his senses were deceiving him. Realising they hadn't, he looked at Dylan with a mixture of disbelief, confusion and awe. "Dylan, this is spectacular."

Dylan was sipping slowly at his own coffee, his eyes downcast. He looked up and met Jack's gaze, smiling softly. "It's kind of my speciality." His smile morphed into a small but unmistakeably cheeky smirk. "Like you and your flirting."

Jack laughed, surprising himself with how free and uninhibited it sounded to his ears. It had been a day filled with surprises, he realised. "Seriously, this is the best coffee I've ever tasted," he added enthusiastically.

"Glad you like it," Dylan said, looking a little self-conscious and flustered by Jack's unrestrained praise.

They sat side-by-side in comfortable silence as they drank, the only distraction the soft murmur of the television in the background. Jack was too captivated by his coffee to take any notice of the programme, savouring every mouthful with reverence. Sighing when his mug was empty, he put it down on the table, and without conscious thought, he rested his hand on Dylan's knee and smiled at him.

"Thanks for today," he said sincerely, feeling grateful to the other man, whose presence had given him a respite from his beleaguered thoughts.

Somehow he felt a little more at peace, a little stronger and ready to cope with his new reality... and inexplicably a little more hopeful. "I had a great time," he added, then sighed softly. "I've been kind of lonely since I arrived in London. It's nice to have found a friend."

Dylan put his own mug down and looked into Jack's eyes, his expression inscrutable. "I had a good time too."

"You seem surprised?" Jack asked curiously.

"No, it's just..." Dylan paused, producing a soft sigh of his own. "I've been lonely too," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

His gaze shifted down to where Jack's hand was still resting on his knee. Jack was about to pull away, worried he might have offended him, when Dylan placed his hand tentatively over Jack's and slowly intertwined their fingers together. He was staring at their joined hands with a puzzled frown, then he looked up into Jack's eyes again, the intense blue depths seeming to peer into Jack's very soul.

The next thing Jack knew, Dylan's lips were pressed against his, and the Welshman was kissing him fiercely.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for finding the time to read my ramblings, and for feedback and encouragement. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Four**

_**October 23rd, 2008 (continued)**_

Jack was so startled, it took him a moment to react to the insistent lips pressing against his own. Pushing aside his confusion, he wrapped his arms around the other man and began eagerly kissing him back. He'd tried to imagine how it might feel to kiss those tempting pink lips he'd been admiring for the last several days, and he was delighted to find he wasn't in the least bit disappointed.

Dylan's tongue pressed demandingly against his lips and he parted them willingly, moaning softly as their tongues met and tangled with one another. The Welshman was undeniably talented, and wanting to feel more of the man's warm, lithe body against his own, Jack pulled him closer as he deepened their kiss.

However, his enjoyment was short-lived when Dylan abruptly pulled away, removing himself from Jack's embrace. They stared at each other, both of them breathing heavily, Dylan's eyes wide with what was clearly shock and confusion. Deciding to remain silent, Jack waited to see what the other man would do next, fearing he might scramble away in horror.

The younger man raised his right hand and traced his fingertips over his lips as he continued to stare at Jack. "I kissed you," he murmured, his voice unsteady and filled with disbelief.

"Yeah," Jack agreed cautiously. "Yeah, you did. It was a pretty spectacular kiss too."

"I've never kissed a man before." A deep frown marred Dylan's smooth brow, his expression still one of intense confusion. "I... I'm not gay. I don't like men. I've never been attracted to another man before."

"Okay," Jack said in an even tone, unsure how to respond.

"But... I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met," Dylan continued, his voice wavering again. "I want to kiss you again now."

Jack gave the other man a reassuring smile, then slowly reached his hand up and traced his fingertips over Dylan's cheek, the action feeling deeply intimate and strangely comfortable and familiar. He shifted his other hand to the back of Dylan's neck and stroked gently, easing their bodies closer until their lips were almost touching again. "I think we've established that I really don't mind. And I'd like to kiss you again too."

He waited to see if Dylan would resist or pull away, but when he didn't, Jack captured the Welshman's lips with his own once more, keeping the contact gentle and relaxed. It took a moment, but then Dylan responded with a soft, needy whimper, kissing Jack back tentatively at first, then becoming more confident again as the kiss grew more passionate. With Jack's face cradled in his hands and his thumb stroking Jack's cheek, Dylan shifted until he was almost lying on top of him, his mouth moving against Jack's with increasing urgency.

Overwhelmed by his desire for the beautiful man in his arms, it took only moments for Jack to become heavily aroused. Shifting his hips in an attempt to get some relief from the increasingly tight confines of his clothing, he could feel Dylan's equally straining erection pressing against his own. Dylan groaned and began rubbing himself against Jack, then as if realising what he'd just done, he suddenly pulled away again.

"Dylan?" Jack moved back into an upright position as he looked worriedly at the other man. Dylan's eyes were lowered, his features once more a mask of extreme confusion. His hands were gripped tightly between his knees, and he was wringing them together in an agitated manner. "Are you okay?"

Dylan nodded, glancing up at Jack, then looking down again. "I'm sorry, I..."

"There's nothing to apologise for," Jack assured him, resting his hand on Dylan's knee and rubbing it soothingly. "Do you want me to go?" he suggested.

It was the last thing he wanted, but he thought that perhaps he needed to give Dylan some space to sort through his emotional turmoil. It wasn't the first time he'd been with someone who was confused about their sexuality, and although it was a foreign concept to him personally, he'd learned from experience to tread carefully in these kinds of situations. It was clear that Dylan was going through a significant internal struggle.

Dylan looked up sharply, alarm in his blue eyes. "No. Stay... please?"

"You're sure?" Jack asked, searching the other man's features.

"I don't want you to go." Dylan breathed out a shuddering sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I... I don't understand what this is." He let out a wry half-laugh. "I'm not in the habit of throwing myself at men I've only just met. Or anyone else for that matter."

He stared hard at Jack for a moment, then to Jack's complete surprise, the corners of his mouth curled upwards into a teasing smirk. "Suppose I could do worse for myself though."

"Hey!" Jack was torn between laughter and indignation, and also startled by the sudden and unexpected change in the man's demeanour. "I'll have you know I'm quite a catch."

"Yeah?" Dylan asked innocently, his eyes beginning to twinkle with amusement.

"Yes," Jack said firmly, thrusting his chin forward. "I've had people queued up for miles just to get a glimpse of this jawline alone."

"Really?" Dylan rolled his eyes, but continued to smirk. "You have got quite a nice jawline, I'll give you that."

"You could do a hell of a lot worse." Jack couldn't stop an affectionate smile from creeping across his lips. "You know, not only are you a stubborn Welshman, you're also a very cheeky one."

"Yep," Dylan agreed, his smirk turning into a broad grin.

Jack grinned back. With Dylan seeming more relaxed, he took a chance and gently stroked the other man's face again, enjoying the sensation of the warm, slightly stubbled skin against his fingertips. Dylan's eyes slid closed, and he leaned into Jack's touch. Shifting closer, Jack stared at the strikingly beautiful, youthful face before him, completely mesmerised. There was something so warm and comfortable and safe about this man who was still virtually a stranger to him. A swell of emotion rose up in his chest, and he was struck by an intense desire to wrap Dylan in his arms and never let him go.

Dylan's eyes opened again, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features. "James... er... I have no idea what I'm doing... with another man, I mean... I don't know how this is meant to work."

Wanting to reassure him, Jack settled his hand on Dylan's shoulder and tried to choose his words carefully. "There aren't any rules here. We can do anything you want... but I'd never want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. You can trust me, okay?"

Dylan scrutinised him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Somehow I know that's true... I know I can trust you. Since I met you there's been something... something different about you." He trailed off with a frown, evidently struggling to find the words. "I've never felt like this before." He shook his head self-deprecatingly. "I must sound crazy."

"No," Jack replied seriously. "No, you don't. I feel it too. I didn't tell you before, but I saw you in the park the day before we met. I couldn't stop thinking about you, so I went back the next day to see if you were there again. I can't explain it either, but I was drawn to you. I knew I needed to meet you... that I wanted to get to know you." He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's fate."

Dylan looked at him doubtfully. "Do you really believe that?"

Jack sighed. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I used to think we make our own fate. But I've seen enough in my life to realise that some things happen for a reason." He smiled softly and squeezed Dylan's shoulder. "All I know for sure is that I'm very glad I met you."

"I'm glad I met you too," Dylan said quietly, biting down on his lower lip and looking at Jack curiously. "So, what happens now?"

"You could let me kiss you again, and we can see where we go from there?" Jack suggested, trying not to get his hopes up prematurely.

Dylan nodded, and apparently it was all the encouragement he needed. The next thing Jack knew, he had his arms wrapped around the Welshman again and they were kissing each other frantically.

It didn't take long before they were both fiercely aroused again, their erections rubbing against one another through their clothing. This time Dylan seemed to have no reservations, and although Jack longed to feel the other man's naked body against his own, he knew he needed to let the Welshman take the lead, proceeding at whatever pace he was comfortable with.

Confused by the strange connection they seemed to share, but also elated by the unexpected turn of their fledging friendship, he felt certain Dylan was more than worth the effort. When Jack wanted something, he could be a patient man, and he wanted the enigmatic Welshman with a degree of desperation verging on madness.

Dylan's hands had moved to the buttons of Jack's shirt, and the younger man pulled back, breaking their kiss. He looked at Jack questioningly, apparently waiting for permission. Jack nodded and leaned forward, waiting until Dylan had finished freeing the buttons, then tugging off the shirt and tossing it aside. He quickly pulled off his white t-shirt as well and dropped it to the floor.

Dylan was staring at Jack's naked torso with curious, lust-filled eyes. He tentatively reached his hand forward, tracing his fingertips over the contours of Jack's chest. His thumb rubbed across one of Jack's nipples, and Jack felt his breath hitch as the sensitive skin responded to the other man's touch.

Anxious to feel Dylan's bare flesh, Jack reached for the top button of the Welshman's shirt. "Okay?"

Dylan nodded, and Jack deftly unfastened the buttons, sliding the shirt away, then grasping the bottom of Dylan's black t-shirt. Dylan obligingly raised his arms and Jack peeled away the garment, distractedly tossing it aside. His mouth went dry as he raked his eyes over the captivating sight before him. The generous endowment of dark hair covering Dylan's stomach and chest was a stark contrast against the pale skin beneath, and Jack eagerly ran his hands over the exposed flesh, loving the texture and sensation as he teased the strands of soft hair between his fingers.

He'd always liked men with an ample amount of body hair, enjoying how it felt against his own comparatively smooth, hairless flesh. It was one of his many and varied fetishes, and he'd often bemoaned men who chose to shave or wax themselves. He appreciated a man who embraced his natural masculinity, and in that regard, Dylan was absolutely perfect.

The younger man was looking at him nervously, but he let out a moan of pleasure as Jack teased a pink nipple between this thumb and forefinger, then turned his attention to the other. "You're beautiful," he murmured appreciatively, still spellbound.

He pulled Dylan closer, bringing their bare chests together and capturing the other man's mouth in another searing kiss. Trailing his hands down the length of Dylan's smooth back, he settled them in the dip at the base and stroked the soft skin, feeling the Welshman tremble against him in response.

Eventually, Dylan pulled back and looked into Jack's eyes. "Um... perhaps we should get more comfortable... if you want to?"

"You're sure?" Jack asked.

"I'm sure." Dylan extricated himself from Jack's embrace, turned off the television, and rose to his feet. He held out his hand to Jack. "You might have to be a bit patient with me though."

Jack took Dylan's hand and stood up beside him. "Like I said, we won't do anything you don't want." He squeezed Dylan's hand. "This is all a new experience for you. I want you to enjoy it."

Dylan gave him a small smile, then led them into the bedroom. Jack stood just inside the doorway and glanced around the sparsely furnished room, smiling with affection as he watched Dylan neatly fold down the bed covers. He gazed admiringly at Dylan's half-naked form in the soft lighting, enjoying the view of the broad expanse of pale shoulders, then shifting his eyes downwards to take in the slim hips, firm buttocks, and long, lean legs still encased in dark denim. Although he thought Dylan was a little too thin for his six-foot stature, the Welshman was well-proportioned and an intensely arousing sight. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told the other man he was beautiful.

"Come here," he said, stepping forward and pulling Dylan into his arms again.

They kissed deeply as they fumbled with their belts and the fastenings of their jeans, stumbling out of them and kicking them haphazardly aside. Unable to endure the confines of his remaining clothing any longer, Jack reluctantly broke their kiss and quickly stripped off his socks and briefs. He straightened up to find Dylan staring down at his erection with a look of fascination. "Touch me," he murmured encouragingly.

Dylan tentatively stroked his fingers along Jack's length, causing Jack to tremble and moan appreciatively. He traced his hands down Dylan's torso, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of Dylan's black briefs, then waited until Dylan met his gaze once more. "Can I?" he asked softly.

Dylan nodded, and Jack eased the underwear down, revelling in the sight of the Welshman's gorgeous and amply proportioned erection. Waiting until Dylan had stepped out of his underwear and tugged off his socks, Jack stroked him gently, teasing his thumb over the leaking tip and savouring the low moan of pleasure Dylan produced in response. Dylan kissed Jack firmly, pressing himself against Jack's body, and it was Jack's turn to murmur appreciatively as their erections rubbed together, this time with no constricting fabric to impede the sensation.

Kissing and caressing with an urgency bordering on desperation, they tumbled down onto the bed. Jack kissed his way down Dylan's throat, then turned his attention to Dylan's chest, eager to explore every inch of his new lover. Sucking and teasing each of Dylan's nipples in turn, he savoured every tremor of pleasure he managed to elicit from the younger man. He followed the trail of dark hair downwards, pausing to tease the hollow of Dylan's navel with his tongue. Continuing to work his way down, he finally reached Dylan's crotch. Cradling and caressing the firm balls with his hand, he ran his tongue along Dylan's straining length before taking him into his mouth.

Feeling Dylan become tense, he paused and took his mouth away. "Is this okay?" he asked, looking up at the other man with concern.

"James... should we be using protection?" Dylan looked slightly embarrassed. "I... I don't have anything we can use."

"Oh." Jack couldn't explain to the other man that he was completely safe thanks to several thousand years of evolution and medical advancement, so he had to settle for a more traditional approach. "You're clean though, right?"

"Yep," Dylan replied. "You?"

"Yeah," Jack assured him. "Dylan, I'd never put you at risk, but we can stop if..."

Dylan shook his head. "No. Like I said, I trust you."

Jack smiled gratefully, and waited for a moment until he was sure Dylan was relaxed again. He slowly stroked him several times, then settled his hands on Dylan's hips and took him back into his mouth. Attempting to apply all of his considerable skill, he wanted the Welshman's first sexual experience with another man to be one he wouldn't ever forget.

Enjoying the feel and taste of the other man in his mouth, he continued his ministrations enthusiastically, and it wasn't long before he felt Dylan approach his climax. With a deep, guttural groan, and a shudder that rippled along the entire length of his body, Dylan spilled his release into Jack's mouth. Jack continued to greedily lick and suck, not wanting to waste a single drop of the hot, thick fluid.

Satisfied that Dylan was spent, Jack moved back to lie beside him and kissed him softly. Dylan tensed against him for a moment, but then relaxed into the kiss and deepened it, his tongue exploring Jack's mouth eagerly.

Dylan reached down and began stroking Jack, causing him to moan with pleasure. When their finally kiss ended, he looked at Jack with uncertainty in his eyes. "Do you want me to..." He trailed off awkwardly, glancing down at Jack's crotch.

"Only if you want to," Jack assured him.

Dylan shifted down the bed, but looked a little lost and confused as he stared at Jack's erection. "Just do whatever you feel comfortable with," Jack encouraged.

"Okay." Dylan hesitantly took Jack partway into his mouth. Closing his eyes, Jack concentrated on the sensation of the man's hot, wet mouth wrapped around him. At first he was awkward and tentative, and Jack wasn't sure if the Welshman was enjoying himself, wondering if he was only reciprocating out of a sense of obligation. But Dylan seemed to rapidly gain confidence, and he was soon pleasuring Jack with surprising skill and enthusiasm. Jack came almost embarrassingly quickly, trembling and then crying out as he erupted into Dylan's mouth. Dylan spluttered slightly, but he didn't pull away until he'd swallowed all of Jack's release.

Jack tugged on Dylan's arms and pulled him up and into a firm kiss, eager to taste himself in the other man's mouth. "Wow," he said when they finally broke apart again. "And you've never done that before?"

A flicker of confusion passed across Dylan's features. "No. Never."

Jack looked at him in awe. "Huh. You must be naturally talented."

"That was okay, then?" Dylan asked, looking at him worriedly.

Jack gave him a reassuring smile. "That was a hell of a lot more than okay. You're obviously a man of hidden talents."

They lay together quietly, slowly kissing and touching each other. When they were both aroused again, Jack wrapped his hand around both of their erections and stroked them together until they climaxed for a second time.

Lying on his back next to Dylan, Jack felt remarkably content as he thought about how the evening had turned out to be one of the best and most unexpected he'd had in a very long time. He just hoped it would be the first of many more to come.

He was wondering if he should offer to leave, thinking dejectedly about his lonely hotel room, when Dylan broke the silence. "James, do you want to stay here tonight?"

Jack propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Dylan's calm, relaxed features, wondering if the man had somehow read his mind. "Do you want me to?"

Dylan gave him a look that was something akin to fond exasperation. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Jack was unable to stop a broad grin from spreading out across his face. "Yeah, I'd like to stay."

###

Jack woke the following morning and rubbed at his eyes as his sleep-muddled mind tried to identify the dimly lit, unfamiliar room. He glanced at the other side of the bed and found Dylan sprawled on his front in an ungainly tangle of limbs, his face buried in a pillow, and snoring softly. Smiling as he recalled their evening together, Jack pulled the bed covers up from where they'd slid away from their naked bodies, then stretched himself out. Shuffling closer to the other man, he folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes again.

Lost in his thoughts, it was a few minutes later when he felt a rustle of movement next to him, accompanied by a soft moan. Opening his eyes again, he turned onto his side and found a pair of sleepy blue eyes peering up at him.

"Hey," he murmured, smiling down at Dylan. Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the Welshman's lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the sensation of the stubbled skin against his own.

"Morning," Dylan muttered thickly, stretching himself out and attempting to stifle a yawn.

Uncertain of how receptive Dylan would be to any morning-after intimacies, Jack took a chance and wrapped his arm around the other man's shoulders, pulling him in close against his chest. To his relief, Dylan went willingly, curling up against him. "Did you sleep okay?" Jack asked softly.

"Mmm-hmm. You?" Dylan mumbled.

"Yeah, like a baby," Jack replied, realising with surprise that he had actually slept peacefully for the entire night. "I can't remember the last time I slept so well."

"That's good, then." Dylan pressed himself closer, wriggling a little, then resting an arm over Jack's stomach. "I'm glad you stayed."

"Me too. So, you're okay?" Jack asked hesitantly, worried that in the cold light of day Dylan might decide their night together had been a horrible mistake, or at the least, something he didn't wish to repeat. He caressed Dylan's forearm. "Not freaking out about last night?"

Dylan exhaled a soft sigh. "It's weird. I feel like I should be... but I'm not. I can't explain it, but being with you... it feels..." He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down into Jack's eyes. "It feels right."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, equally at a loss to explain the connection they clearly both felt. He'd never experienced anything like it before. "Yeah, it does. I can't explain it either."

Dylan perplexed expression mirrored Jack's thoughts. But he settled against Jack again, and Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead, surprised again by the deep affection he felt for the younger man. It wasn't like him to fall so hard and fast for someone, and it both exhilarated and terrified him.

"I probably should head back to my hotel," he said with regret a minute or so later, thinking he'd prefer to stay exactly where he was, but not wanting to overstay his welcome. "Maybe I can swing by later and we can get some lunch? If you don't have any other plans?"

"No, I don't have any plans," Dylan replied in a soft murmur. "Around one o'clock?"

"Okay," Jack agreed cheerfully. "It's a date."

Dylan pressed his face against Jack's neck and took a deep breath. "You don't have to rush off if you don't want to. I can make us some breakfast first."

"Including some of your fantastic coffee?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Of course," Dylan replied, his lips twitching against Jack's skin.

Dylan shifted against him and Jack was reminded of the man's morning arousal pressing against his thigh. Grinning, he reached down and gave Dylan a teasing stroke. "But before we do that, I think there's some business we need to take care of first."

"Oh, you do, huh?" Dylan asked, then moaned as Jack stroked him again.

Jack chuckled, pulling Dylan on top of him and giving him a firm kiss. "Absolutely."


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including the guest reviews I can't reply to. I know some of you are confused with aspects of the story, but hopefully it will make sense in due course. At this stage there's at least ten chapters to go, so there's still a fair bit yet to come. A special thanks to Prothrombintime for taking the time to read this chapter not once but twice, and for always so generously offering encouragement and feedback. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Five**

_**October 31st, 2008**_

Jack was lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand, and smiling softly as he studied the naked body sprawled out beside him. Dylan's eyes were closed, his right arm thrown back behind his head, and his chest moved rhythmically with his relaxed, steady breathing. The subdued, fading light of the late afternoon trickled into the bedroom from the edges of the curtained window, and Dylan's pale skin, sweat-dampened and sticky from their recent activities, seemed to shine with an almost ethereal glow.

Jack slowly teased his fingers through the exposed mass of thick, damp hair adorning Dylan's armpit, then traced a languid path across the Welshman's chest and down to his abdomen. He loved touching and exploring the other man, and although Dylan was already deliciously dishevelled, Jack couldn't help taking perverse pleasure in making him just a little bit messier. It thrilled him to see the usually impeccably neat and tidy young man come undone and reduced to a state of debauched abandonment, and he couldn't help taking just a little bit of smug satisfaction in the knowledge that he was responsible for the stunning transformation.

"Having fun?" Dylan asked wryly, not opening his eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Jack replied with a grin. "You know how much I enjoy touching you."

He teased the indentation of Dylan's navel, then ran his fingers upwards, following the trail of dark, matted hair to where it was thickest at the centre of Dylan's chest. "And I love all this gorgeous hair. It's incredibly sexy." He sighed with contentment, caressing his way back down to the base of Dylan's abdomen. "Of course, I'll stop if you want me to."

Dylan opened his eyes briefly. "No. Don't... at least, not yet." He exhaled a soft sigh. "I've never been with anyone so, er... tactile before. It's... nice... very nice."

Jack couldn't deny that he'd always been a very tactile lover, enjoying the shared closeness and intimacies, especially when it was someone he genuinely cared about, and not just a random stranger he'd never see again. And he'd quickly discovered that beneath Dylan's reserved exterior there was a deeply sensual, passionate young man, but a man who perhaps hadn't had the benefit of a like-minded partner to help him explore and nurture that carefully guarded aspect of himself. Jack was a little surprised to realise how privileged he felt to be the person Dylan was allowing and trusting to do that.

He gave a playful bite to the soft skin at the junction of Dylan's neck and shoulder. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

Dylan's only reply was a derisive snort. Jack chuckled and rested his head on the Welshman's chest, continuing to lazily caress the warm, slick flesh below. He pressed his face against Dylan's neck and inhaled deeply, savouring the man's natural masculine scent, and enjoying the way it combined with the lingering hint of Dylan's aftershave – a subtle and alluring mix of citrus, spice and fragrant woods, with the barely perceptible hint of a vanilla undertone. Like the man himself, it was a wonderfully heady, intoxicating combination.

They'd been virtually inseparable since their first night together eight days earlier, and Jack had spent every night with Dylan, happily sharing the other man's bed. He'd relocated his meagre possessions to a hotel closer to Dylan's apartment for convenience, but he hadn't actually spent a night in the new hotel yet, simply using the room as a place to keep his things and to shower and change.

They spent their days wandering the city, sometimes taking in various attractions, going to the cinema, or even indulging in some shopping. They'd spent several hours exploring Harrods one afternoon, and Dylan had even managed to coerce Jack into accompanying him to a repeat viewing of the new Bond film. Jack had been somewhat disappointed when his attempts to grope the younger man in the darkness of the cinema had been met with disapproval, his roaming hands firmly battered away on his every attempt.

During their Harrods trip, Dylan had come to an abrupt halt in front of the display of a particularly fine, three-piece, charcoal grey pinstriped suit. The look on the younger man's face had been what Jack could only describe as wistful longing. Thinking the suit would look spectacular on the Welshman's tall, lean body, he'd encouraged Dylan to try it on, but the younger man had simply shook his head, smiled weakly, then turned away. Jack had continued to stare at the suit for several more moments, the sight having evoked the now familiar tingling sensation at the edges of his mind.

They ate lunch in various parks around the city when the weather was accommodating, they'd dined out twice at a couple of nearby restaurants, and Dylan had cooked for them several times, proving himself to be efficient and capable in the kitchen. And just like the current afternoon, they'd spent many lazy hours during the day in Dylan's bedroom, hidden away from the world and losing themselves in the pleasure of each other's bodies.

To Jack's delight, their sexual activities had rapidly progressed to include intercourse, with Dylan showing surprisingly little reticence in embracing that particular milestone in his sexual enlightenment. Jack had been so turned on by the thought of having Dylan deep inside him that their first time, while intensely pleasurable, had been over almost embarrassingly quickly. Fortunately they'd had plenty of practice since then, and having taken the time to learn every aspect of each other's bodies, they'd become exceptionally comfortable together, discovering how to extract every nuance of pleasure from one another.

Dylan had proven himself to be a skilled and considerate lover. He was selfless in his desire to give pleasure, fastidious in every detail, and surprisingly open-minded and trusting. Beyond a moment of trepidation when Jack had entered him for the first time, he'd shown no further indication that he was struggling with being in a sexual relationship with another man. Jack admired the younger man, and the realisation that Dylan's sexual appetite was substantial and an equal match for his own voracious desires was also a surprising, but extremely welcome discovery. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other, and Dylan continued to surprise and fascinate him. For a man who had lived as long as Jack, that was an exceptionally uncommon occurrence.

As impossible as it seemed, Jack had suddenly found himself in a rare little bubble of happiness. There was no Torchwood, no responsibilities and gut-wrenching decisions, no death and destruction, no interminable waiting for the Doctor, no soul-destroying loneliness and despair. Not since his carefree days of travelling with the Doctor and Rose had he felt like an impossibly heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last he was free, and most importantly, he wasn't alone anymore.

However, the more cynical side of his nature wondered how long it could last. Nothing good had ever lasted for him, and as much as he wanted to hope this time could be different – that fate had dealt him a winning hand just this once – he was frightened it would end the same way it always had in the past... with him alone once more, his tortured soul torn to shreds. He'd fallen hard, completely enthralled by the handsome young Welshman, and he couldn't deny that Dylan, in his quiet, unassuming way, was steadily forging himself a place deep within his heart.

"James..." Dylan murmured, pulling Jack out of his introspection.

He felt a twinge of guilt each time Dylan used his new name, and he'd wondered several times if he should come clean about his identity. Captain Jack Harkness belonged firmly in the past, but he'd been Jack for so long, and he was having trouble letting go. A part of him longed to hear Dylan call him Jack instead of James. He'd tried to imagine how that one simple word would sound in Dylan's beautiful, melodious accent.

"You're, uh... you're not planning to leave, are you?" Dylan continued, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Why would I leave?" Jack asked in confusion, lifting his head to peer at Dylan's face, his eyes now open and gazing intently at Jack.

Dylan shrugged slightly, lowering his eyes to where Jack's hand was resting on his stomach. "I know this is still new... and of course I'm not asking you for anything... it's just..." He sighed quietly, seeming reluctant to continue. "I worry I'll wake up one day and you'll be gone," he finally admitted. "After all, you're living in a hotel."

Jack had to acknowledge that his transient accommodations didn't exactly inspire confidence. He considered his words carefully before replying. "When I arrived here in London I wasn't sure what I wanted to do... if I was going to stay... where I was going to go. I was just trying to get through one day at a time. But that was before I met you."

Dylan's eyes shifted up to meet his again, and Jack placed a soft kiss against the younger man's lips. "As long as you want me around," he continued. "I'm not going anywhere. You don't need to worry about that, okay?"

A look of relief passed over Dylan's features. "Okay. Maybe you could get a place nearby, then?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about that too," Jack agreed. "I can't live in a hotel room indefinitely." He looked at Dylan uncertainly. "Sure you wouldn't mind if I'm somewhere close by?"

"No, of course not," Dylan replied. His lips twitched with a wry smile. "I think it's pretty obvious that I like having you around."

Jack smiled gratefully. "The feeling's entirely mutual. Okay, I'll start looking for something."

In truth, he wasn't sure about the idea of settling down in London. The bustle and excitement of a big city wasn't as appealing to him as it would once have been. He'd been thinking about finding somewhere quiet, perhaps on the coast... somewhere peaceful that reminded him of Boeshane. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to stay in England, and he couldn't return to Wales, at least not to Cardiff and the surrounding areas.

He wasn't sure where he belonged, but he wondered if perhaps that didn't matter anymore. Gazing into the warm blue depths of Dylan's eyes and experiencing the increasingly familiar rush of intense affection, he considered that perhaps he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He pressed a kiss to Dylan's chest, wrapping his arms around the younger man and holding him close. They were silent for several minutes, and his thoughts drifted, his senses filled with the warm, comfortable presence of the other man.

"Dylan, tell me about your dreams... your plans," he murmured. As much as he wanted to just enjoy the here and now, he couldn't help wondering if it might be possible for them to have a real future together. "What do you want?"

Dylan didn't respond immediately. "I'm not sure," he finally replied. "I thought I knew what I wanted. I suppose I did for a while. But now..." He trailed off and was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I've thought about trying my hand at writing a book. Some sort of spy story. I've got a few ideas. I know it sounds daft..."

"No, it doesn't. Not at all." Jack smiled, brushing his lips against Dylan's neck and thinking the younger man's pedantic and fastidious nature would serve him well in weaving elaborate, detailed storylines. "That Bond obsession of yours might come in handy."

Dylan huffed indignantly. "It's not an obsession... just a healthy interest."

"Of course it is," Jack agreed, unable to hide the amusement from his voice, and certain that Dylan was rolling his eyes at him.

"I've thought about travelling a bit," Dylan continued in a thoughtful tone. "I've never been anywhere except Wales and London. Might be nice to see some of the world."

"Where would you like to go?" Jack asked curiously.

"Don't know. Anywhere, I suppose. Maybe Italy or France to start with. Perhaps Holland or Switzerland. Then maybe Spain or even somewhere like the Caribbean or Egypt." Dylan exhaled a wistful little sigh. "I'd just like to see some of what's out there. I've never had the chance to do that before."

"Well, there's nothing stopping you." Jack paused uncertainly, worried that Dylan might decide just to up and leave one day soon. "You're young and you don't have any ties," he continued, trying to sound encouraging. "Might as well enjoy yourself."

"Yeah, I suppose," Dylan murmured in a non-committal tone.

"I'd come with you if you wanted me to." The words were out of Jack's mouth before he'd realised the implications of what he was saying. He had to remind himself that he'd only known Dylan for a little less than two weeks. Inexplicably, it seemed like they'd known each other for so much longer.

"You would?" Dylan asked, clearly surprised. "Just like that?"

"Sure, why not," Jack replied. "If you wanted company that is," he added quickly, not wanting Dylan to think he was getting too clingy. Although, he suspected it was probably a little too late to be worried about that particular point.

"I... I'd like that." Dylan's response was tentative, but his tone didn't sound insincere. "Not much fun travelling on your own."

"No, it's not," Jack agreed, pleased that Dylan seemed receptive to the idea. He shifted so he could look into Dylan's eyes again. "Maybe give it some thought?" he suggested, excited by the prospect of taking off to some foreign destination with his new friend and lover. "Think about where you might like to go first... maybe a short trip to start with to whet your appetite?"

Dylan gave him a warm smile. "All right." Placing a hand on the back of Jack's head, he pulled Jack closer and kissed him tenderly.

Jack smiled against Dylan's lips and kissed him back, then moved so he was lying on top of the other man. He pressed the full length of their bodies together, causing them both to groan with pleasure. "Want to have sex again?" he asked cheekily, feeling Dylan responding rapidly beneath him.

Dylan groaned again, moving his hips to rub himself against Jack. "You're insatiable."

"And you're not?" Jack asked with amusement.

"Must be your aftershave," Dylan muttered.

Jack grinned smugly. "Never wear any."

Dylan's eyes widened. "You smell like that naturally?" he asked, looking up at Jack with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Yup," Jack replied, having to resist the urge to make a quip about fifty-first century pheromones.

Dylan seemed lost for words. "Huh."

Jack laughed and captured Dylan's mouth in a hungry kiss. Not breaking contact, Dylan rolled them over so he was on top of Jack, taking control of the kiss and pressing his tongue deep into Jack's mouth, exploring insistently. Jack felt a rush of excitement, loving when the Welshman's more dominant side came out to play. He traced his hands down the smooth flesh of Dylan's back, resting them on the firm buttocks below, before gently spreading them apart and teasing a finger over the sensitive ring of muscle. Dylan moaned into Jack's mouth in response, a shudder rippling along his body.

Dylan pulled away and positioned himself above Jack, bracing himself with one hand and lining up Jack's erection with the other. He lowered himself onto Jack, his eyes drifting closed as he moaned softly, and not stopping until he'd taken Jack's entire length inside him. Jack gasped with pleasure as the tight heat surrounded him. Dylan was still slick from their earlier coupling, and Jack was momentarily overwhelmed by the intense sensation.

Opening his eyes again, Dylan began moving against Jack in a slow, easy rhythm. Jack ran his hands over Dylan's torso, teasing the sensitive nipples in the way he knew the younger man enjoyed. He watched, utterly captivated, as Dylan began stroking himself, his head thrown back and his features taking on an expression of unrestrained abandonment. Jack wondered if he'd ever seen a more magnificent sight.

Their eyes met, and as Jack stared at Dylan with desire and affection, he knew with an astonishing degree of certainty that he'd found everything he needed and wanted. He'd found salvation, and more profoundly, he'd found the one thing he longed for, but hadn't been sure he was still capable of feeling. He'd found love.

###

The following day, Jack was standing at the door of Dylan's apartment, bouncing back and forward on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently. He was almost giddy with excitement, a state that, if he'd stopped to think about it, wasn't particularly dignified for a man who was almost one-hundred and seventy-six years old.

Finally, Dylan opened the door, smiled at him, and ushered him inside.

Jack took a moment to feast his eyes on the sight before him. Dylan was dressed in faded jeans and a snug dark blue t-shirt, and his hands were sheathed in bright yellow rubber gloves. There was a cute little smudge of dirt on his nose, and somehow the younger man managed to look both insanely hot and completely adorable at the same time. It was only by summoning every ounce of his self-control that Jack managed to resist grabbing hold of the Welshman, stripping him naked, and dragging him into the bedroom.

He leaned in and kissed Dylan firmly on the lips. "I've got a surprise."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. "Er... you're moving in?"

Jack frowned in confusion, then remembered the travel bag he had slung over his shoulder. "Oh." He dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. "No. Sorry." He reached into his jacket and extracted a plain white envelope, thrusting it at the other man. "Here."

Dylan stared down at the innocuous envelope suspiciously, and Jack's excitement faltered as he wondered if he was being too impulsive. Dylan wasn't a spontaneous person for the most part. Instead, he was someone who seemed to consider things from every angle before reaching a well thought out conclusion. In that respect he was very unlike Jack, and although Jack's impulsive nature had been greatly dampened by his long association with Torchwood, he could still have his moments.

Then he remembered the first kiss they'd shared. Even now, the memory of that spectacular kiss sent a rush of blood to one of his favourite parts of his anatomy. Despite Dylan's reserved nature, he was certainly capable of moments of impulsiveness too. But Jack had decided that the younger man needed a little more spontaneity in his life, and he was more than willing to oblige. "Go on," he urged, flapping the envelope impatiently. "It won't bite."

Dylan slowly removed his gloves and took the envelope, gingerly lifting the flap and extracting the contents. "Train tickets?" he asked, looking up at Jack with a puzzled frown.

Jack beamed at him. "Yup. Pack a bag Dylan Evans. We're going to Paris."


	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for being so generous in providing feedback and encouragement on my ramblings.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Six**

_**June 24th, 2007**_

Seated on the train to London, Ianto looked distractedly out the window as the landscape sped past. After receiving the call from Lisa, he'd returned home, changed out of his suit and into casual attire, then hastily packed enough clothing and essentials to last for several days. Not wanting to stay at the apartment in case Jack came looking for him, he'd taken his bags down to his car, and after driving around aimlessly for over an hour, he'd eventually ended up parked by a desolate stretch of the Porthcawl coastline. He wasn't sure how long he'd just sat in his car and stared out at the sea, blinking back silent tears and feeling like his world had been torn apart.

He'd gone for a long walk along the shoreline, his thoughts preoccupied with Jack and the few times they'd visited the windswept beach together. They were fond memories, and Jack always seemed to enjoy those rare, fleeting escapes from the reality of their lives. Finally he'd driven back to Cardiff, parked his car at the apartment again, collected his luggage, taken a taxi to Cardiff Central station, then boarded the next available train to London.

He'd chosen a sparsely occupied rear compartment, needing solitude so he could gather his thoughts, and not trusting his ability to keep his emotions in check. He hated feeling out of control and so emotionally raw and vulnerable. Little by little he'd given everything he was to Jack, opening his heart and baring his soul.

The old feelings of inadequacy and insignificance from the time of Lisa's rejection consumed his thoughts. He couldn't help wondering what he'd done wrong... if there was something more he could have done... or something he could have done differently. But Lisa hadn't loved him, whereas Jack did, he was certain of it. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. If Jack didn't love him, he could try to move on, hoping there was something better waiting for him elsewhere. Instead, he would have to live with the knowledge of what he'd lost. Jack owned his heart, and he didn't think that would ever change. Jack wasn't setting him free, he was condemning him to a life of heartache and loneliness.

He cursed the man for being so bloody noble. He wanted to be angry at Jack, to hate him even, but the anger had faded all too quickly. He understood that Jack was acting out of guilt and fear, thinly masked under a guise of selfless martyrdom. He felt helpless and heartbroken, and yet he couldn't truly be angry at Jack. A part of him understood the man's reasoning and motivations, even if he believed them to be futile and misguided.

With a weary sigh, he slid his phone from his jacket pocket and turned it on. Grimacing when he found twelve missed calls from Jack, he quickly turned it off again and shoved it back into his pocket. He'd sent a succinct text message to Jack after he'd finished packing, informing him of his impromptu trip to London and stating that he'd be in touch in a few days time. It was as much communication as he could handle, not wanting to hear more rationalisations from the other man on why they couldn't be together any longer.

He was trying not to think of what would happen if their relationship really was over. He couldn't continue to work with Jack, living with the daily reminder of what he'd lost. He supposed he'd have to transfer back to Torchwood One and relocate to London again. The only other alternative was to leave Torchwood behind, find himself a normal job, and try to live a conventional life. He wondered if that was even possible after everything he'd seen. He couldn't imagine trying to assume a life of blissful ignorance, all the while still knowing what was really out there.

There was always retcon, but no matter what the future held, he didn't want to forget Jack. If Jack refused to reconsider his decision, he supposed he would just have to try to move on with his life as best he could and cherish the memories of the time they'd had together.

Swallowing down a choked sob, he pressed his eyes closed and tried to focus his mind on the clatter of the train as it sped along the tracks.

###

After arriving in London, Ianto made his way to the hotel he'd stayed at before, a few minutes walking distance of Torchwood Tower. Not knowing how long he'd be staying in London, he'd decided to use the hotel for a few nights, then seek out longer term accommodation if necessary. Quickly unpacking his belongings, he took a long hot shower in the vain hope it would help to ease some of his built-up tension.

Feeling marginally better, he called Lisa to let her know he'd arrived, and to his dismay, she asked him to meet her at a nearby bar. He reluctantly agreed, his hopes dashed for a solitary evening spent drowning his sorrows in a bottle of something sufficiently inebriating. Wearily, he put on a fresh shirt and underwear, redressed in his jeans and leather jacket, then headed out of the hotel.

He was halfway through his second double Scotch when he found himself staring incredulously across the table at Lisa, his mind reeling for the second time that day. "There's a spatial rift here in London? Why didn't we know about it?"

"Yvonne's been keeping it on a strictly need-to-know basis," Lisa replied. "I only found out about it when I got assigned to the project a month ago. It's six-hundred feet above sea level. That's why Torchwood Tower was originally built. It was the only way to reach it."

"The forty-fifth floor," Ianto murmured, performing a quick mental calculation.

Lisa nodded. "I'm worried, Ianto. Seriously worried. Yvonne's got everyone brainwashed about this rift being an unlimited energy source... some sort of magical solution to all of Britain's problems. She thinks if we can harness that power, she'll be responsible for making Britain independent... that with so much energy at our disposal we'll be able to defend the planet against any alien threat." She shook her head and took a sip of her vodka martini. "You know how single-minded she is... she thinks this will make Britain a superpower again... she's fixated on restoring the British Empire."

Ianto frowned with concern, but he wasn't overly surprised by Yvonne Hartman's arrogance and short-sightedness. "The Cardiff Rift is dangerous and unpredictable," he mused aloud. "There's been attempts to control it in the past, but it's almost ended in disaster every time. If this rift is anything like that, she has no idea what she's dealing with. No ones does. God knows what might come through it."

"Actually, something already has," Lisa said slowly.

"What was it?" Ianto asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's a big metal floating sphere," Lisa replied. "They don't know what it is. There's something weird about it though. They can't get any readings from it. Every machine they've tried says it doesn't exist."

"That doesn't sound good," Ianto muttered, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself for stating the obvious.

"What about your boss?" Lisa had a strange look on her face as she asked the question. "Captain Harkness could talk to Yvonne, perhaps convince her..."

Ianto shook his head. "Jack and Yvonne despise each other. She'll never listen to him, and he has no jurisdiction over Torchwood One. If he tried to interfere, she'd probably have him arrested and locked up." Or worse, he thought, shuddering inwardly.

"So, what can we do?" Lisa asked, looking at him intently.

Ianto thought for a moment. Hartman was too powerful to openly oppose, so their options seemed pretty much non-existent. "I suppose all we can do is keep an eye on things... hope she knows what she's doing. I'm not happy about it, but I don't know what else we can do. I'll talk to Jack... at least let him know what's going on." He paused, not relishing the thought of speaking to Jack again so soon. "You said the next experiment is scheduled for tomorrow morning?"

Lisa nodded. "So, you'll stay?"

"Yep, I'll stay," Ianto confirmed, his mind turning to practical matters, including a suitable cover story. "I'll tell Yvonne I had to come to London on some personal business, and that I decided to take advantage of the trip to cross-reference some of our artefacts with the Torchwood One archives. If she's so preoccupied with this rift project of hers, hopefully she won't think to question my presence."

"That should work," Lisa agreed. She took a sip of her drink, then looked at him curiously. "It's good to see you again, Ianto. You've changed, you know."

"Have I?" Ianto asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You're more confident... more sure of yourself." Lisa paused, her dark eyes peering at him. "There was a rumour going around a while back. About you and Jack Harkness. I didn't believe it, but..."

Ianto swallowed a mouthful of his Scotch, then sighed heavily. He knew it was pointless to hide the truth from Lisa any longer. "Me and Jack, we're..." He paused awkwardly, suddenly not sure how to describe what he and Jack were, not knowing if they were still anything at all. "We're together. Have been for a bit over three years. So, whatever you've heard, it's probably true."

Predictably, Lisa looked at him with wide-eyed astonishment, her mouth hanging open. "But you're not... I mean, I didn't know that you liked men..." She frowned with what was obvious confusion. "Did you fancy men the whole time we were together?"

Ianto shook his head, feeling a rush of heat to his face, and wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. "No. It wasn't like that. Jack... he's different... it's not... men, it's... just him. It's only him." Cursing his lack of eloquence, he cleared his throat and tried again. "I can't explain it, Lisa, but he's the only man I've ever been attracted to." He shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes. "I love him," he said quietly, looking up at her again.

To his relief, Lisa seemed to have regained some of her composure, although she was still looking at him incredulously. "The last time I saw you... you said you were seeing someone. Was it him?"

"Yes... yes, it was. It was all still fairly new back then. I know I should have told you... but..." Ianto shrugged slightly. "I didn't know what it was in the beginning."

Lisa nodded slowly, and there was a heavy moment of silence between them. Then she frowned again, giving him a look that seemed to be somewhere between concern and pity. "Ianto... you know what they say about him... that he's..."

"Jack's a good man," Ianto said firmly, not wanting to hear whatever she was going to say. He was well aware of the gossip about Jack's licentious past from his own time at Torchwood One. While he knew there was probably at least an element of truth to it, he also knew that Jack would never be unfaithful to someone he was in a relationship with. Regardless of his issues with Jack, he'd never had cause to doubt the other man's fidelity. "He's the finest man I've ever known," he added without hesitation, surprisingly himself by his admission given the current circumstances.

"I'm sorry." Lisa gave him a small, apologetic smile. "I know it's none of my business. But I still care about you, Ianto. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know." Ianto forced a smile in return and waved his hand dismissively. "And it's good to see you too, Lisa. It's been a long time."

Although it wasn't particularly painful to see Lisa again, given the situation, he couldn't help thinking about what might have been. He and Lisa might have still been together, perhaps engaged or even married by now, and he might have been happy and content. But then he never would have met Jack. The thought of not having Jack in his life threatened to overwhelm him with despair all over again.

He tossed back the remainder of his drink, then rose to his feet, desperately needing to be alone. "I should go," he muttered, struggling to keep his voice even and free of emotion. "I'm a bit tired from the trip."

Lisa stood up as well. "Yeah, I should head home too. Maybe I'll have another drink first though." She touched his arm gently. "Thanks for coming, Ianto. I didn't know who else to turn to. I'm glad you're here."

Ianto nodded, managing a small, tight smile. "I'll see you at work tomorrow. Goodnight, Lisa."

Turning away, he walked briskly out of the bar and headed back to the hotel.

###

Two days later, Ianto was sitting at a secluded table in Torchwood One's cafeteria, writing idly in his diary as he tried to organise his confused thoughts. With a weary sigh, he closed the diary, lined up his pen neatly beside it, and leaned back in his chair, sipping at a barely drinkable cup of coffee as he gazed out the windows at the bustling city below.

As he'd expected, Yvonne Hartman had shown little interest in his sudden appearance. He'd explained that he wanted to cross-reference some of the Cardiff artefacts with the Torchwood One database, and she'd simply told him to inform her if anything of interest came up. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. He'd once been ostensibly spying for her, and now he was spying on her.

Jack would appreciate the sense of poetic justice, he mused distractedly, then felt his chest tighten as he thought of his estranged friend and lover. He had yet to speak to Jack since 'the incident', as he'd started to call it in his mind, refusing to give it a name which had any connotations of permanence or finality. He knew he couldn't put it off for much longer, but each time he'd picked up his phone to make the call, his resolve wavered and he quickly put the phone down again. It was irrational, but as long as they didn't speak, he could continue to cling to the hope of reconciliation.

He'd spoken to both Tosh and Owen the day after he'd arrived in London. They'd been curious about his sudden disappearance, Jack having told them only that he was having a few days off. Knowing they'd be furious with Jack if they knew the truth, he'd settled on a highly edited version of events, explaining that he was in London visiting a friend. The last thing he wanted was for his relationship issues with Jack to have a negative effect on the working environment at the Hub.

The rift experiments were ongoing, and although he hadn't been able to find out much, the little he had learned was disturbing to say the least. The Torchwood scientists had developed technology based on the particle weapon recovered from the Cardiff Rift a number of years earlier, and they were using it to open a breach in the rift. Although Ianto didn't understand the science behind it, he felt certain they were out of their depth and meddling with things they couldn't possibly understand. He hoped he was wrong, but he couldn't help thinking they were asking for serious trouble.

He'd paid a visit to Rajesh Singh, who had been tasked with solving the mystery of the floating metal sphere. The strange object unnerved Ianto deeply, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very wrong about it. It had been impervious to every piece of equipment they'd attempted to analyse it with, and although it had been completely benign so far, he would have felt more comfortable if they had some idea what was inside it, if anything.

A loud shout from across the room drew his attention, and he turned his head to find the source of the commotion. He was startled to find that several indistinct, semi-translucent objects had appeared within the large space of the cafeteria. They looked humanoid in size and shape, dark grey almost black in colour, with a blurred white, shimmering halo surrounding them. Whatever the objects were, they were frozen in place, completely unmoving.

Rising to his feet, Ianto cautiously made his way over to the nearest one and examined it closely, trying to discern any features that might help to identify what it was. Not finding anything distinct within the dark haze, he tentatively reached forward. His hand passed through the object, but his skin tingled uncomfortably from the contact and he quickly pulled away. He glanced around to where the other people in the room were also examining the nebulous figures.

The shape suddenly moved, stepping towards him. Ianto jumped back in shock, stumbling against a nearby table, and landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. He stared up anxiously as the manifestation continued to move closer. He began to edge backwards, but then a moment later, it simply faded from existence.

Dumbstruck, Ianto stared up at the now empty space. Then he noticed Lisa hurrying towards him. "Ianto, are you okay?"

"No broken bones. Slight loss of dignity," he quipped, allowing Lisa to help him to his feet, and rubbing distractedly at the back of his head where he'd banged it against an empty chair when he'd fell. Rolling his eyes at himself, he added, "No change there then."

"What... what were those things?" Lisa asked, glancing around the room to where the other people were looking equally shocked and confused, then turning her gaze back towards him. "They were in the corridor too."

Ianto shook his head. "No idea. They looked like..." He frowned, trying to come up with some sort of rational explanation for what the manifestations might have been, but drawing a blank. "They looked like ghosts."

###

Ianto cleared his throat and waited anxiously until Yvonne Hartman ended her conversation with one of Torchwood's white-coated scientists, finally turning her attention towards him. "Yvonne? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"This isn't a good time, Ianto," Yvonne replied impatiently. "As you can see we're very busy."

Ianto held his ground under the woman's hard, imperious gaze. "It's important. Just a minute of your time. Please."

"All right." She sighed and strode briskly into her office, gesturing for him to follow. "What do you need?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against her desk.

Ianto squared his shoulders, steeling himself. "This rift project of yours. With all due respect, you need to stop these experiments."

Yvonne looked at him incredulously. "I don't think so."

"It's too dangerous," Ianto said insistently. "You know how unpredictable the Cardiff Rift is. How do you know this one is any different? First that sphere came through, and now these ghost things have started to appear. There's no way of knowing what else might come through it."

"We've got some of the finest minds in the country working on this," Yvonne stated, clearly unmoved by his concerns. "We're in complete control. We can open the breach, but we can close it too. It's a massive source of energy. If we can fully harness that power..."

"Yes, but is it worth the risk?" Ianto asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"I've been assured any risk is minimal," Yvonne replied confidently. "So, the answer is, yes. This could be the single greatest discovery in the history of the British Empire. We'd be fools to turn our backs on it."

Under no illusions about Yvonne Hartman's self-righteous, short-sighted attitude, Ianto was still appalled by the woman's stupidity and stubborn arrogance. "And these ghosts?"

"A side effect," she replied evenly. "We're analysing the data. But there's nothing to indicate they're a threat."

Realising he was getting nowhere, Ianto decided to try a different approach. He knew it was pointless, but he had to try. "Will you at least allow Captain Harkness to come to London and assist your team?" he suggested. "I'll speak to him. He's got more experience with the Cardiff Rift than anyone else. I'm sure he could help."

Yvonne shook her head. "Absolutely not. I don't want that man anywhere near this project." She narrowed her eyes at him, her features taking on an unmistakeable hint of menace. "If he tries to interfere, I'll have him detained and locked up. You as well, if it comes to that. I'm sure I can find a nice comfortable cell for the two of you."

Ianto shuddered inwardly and barely suppressed a frustrated sigh. "We're not the enemy, Yvonne. I'm concerned that this project is more dangerous than you think. I'm only trying to help."

"Your concern is noted," Yvonne said curtly. "Now, finish the work you came here to do, then go back to Cardiff. This has nothing to do with you or Torchwood Three." She moved over to the door and looked at him pointedly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

###

Back in his hotel room that evening, Ianto stared down at his phone, his finger poised over the call button. Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, he closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes again, and pressed the button. Raising the handset to his ear, he glanced at the bottle of Scotch and empty glass on the bedside table, belatedly wishing he'd indulged in a second drink.

Finally the call connected. _"Ianto? Thank the gods. I've been worried sick. Where are you?"_

Ianto felt his throat tighten with the sound of the achingly familiar voice. "Hello, Jack. I'm in London, just like I said."

"_Are you all right?"_

"Yes, I'm fine," Ianto replied tersely, not knowing what else to say.

"_Ianto..."_

Ianto cut him off, needing the conversation to be over as quickly as possible. "Jack, look, I need you to listen to me. There's something going on here that you should know about..."

As succinctly as possible, he recounted the phone call from Lisa and the events that had taken place since, finishing with his confrontation earlier that day with Yvonne Hartman.

"_That damn woman,"_ Jack muttered angrily once Ianto had finished his narrative._ "What the hell does she think she's doing? She has no idea what she's dealing with." _He sighed heavily. _"I'm coming to London. I have to stop her."_

"You can't, Jack," Ianto argued, a wave of panic rising up in his chest. "She'll toss us both in a cell and throw away the key." He wondered if that was exactly what Hartman wanted. Probably not so much for him – he wasn't a threat to her, and he didn't flatter himself that she would waste her time with him – but she'd relish the opportunity to get Jack out of the way once and for all. "We're not going to be much use to anyone if that happens."

Jack made a noise of frustration. _"Okay, fair point. So, what do you think we should we do?"_

"As much as I hate to say it, I don't think there's much we can do." Ianto took a deep breath. "I'm going to stay here. At least I can be a pair of eyes and ears. I can keep you updated on any developments."

"_I don't like it, Ianto,"_ Jack protested. _"It's too dangerous. You shouldn't be there on your own."_

"I can take care of myself," Ianto said determinedly. "I'm staying, Jack. End of discussion."

There was a long silent pause. _"Fine,"_ Jack eventually replied. _"I'll make some calls, and I'll get Toshiko onto it too. Just be careful and watch your back, okay?"_

"I'll be careful," Ianto agreed. There was another lengthy pause, and he could just make out the sound of Jack's breathing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the barely audible sound.

"_I miss you, Ianto."_

Ianto's eyes shot open in surprise, and he very nearly unleashed an angry retort. Given that their situation was entirely Jack's doing, it seemed a bit beyond the pale for the man to be making such an emotionally loaded statement. But there was such intense sadness in Jack's voice that he caught himself at the last moment and instead settled for brutal honesty. "I miss you, too," he whispered, his voice catching.

"_Ianto, I..."_

"Don't, Jack," he pleaded. "Please, just... don't."

Jack sighed and there was another long silence before he spoke again. _"You're coming back though, right? I'm going to see you again?"_

"Do you want me to come back?" Ianto asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"_Of course I do. I never meant for you to run off to London."_

"I didn't run anywhere," Ianto retorted, more defensively than he'd intended. "Lisa called and asked for my help. What the hell did you expect, Jack? You're the one who said you can't do this anymore. You decided to tear my life apart." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "Tell me, Jack, how am I supposed to deal with that?"

"_Ianto, I'm sorry... I..."_

"I need to go," Ianto said quickly, cutting him off. "I'll call again when I've got anything new to report. Goodnight, Jack."

Disconnecting the call, Ianto tossed the phone onto the bedside table. Burying his face in his hands, he pulled his legs up tight against his chest, sobbing quietly as he surrendered to his emotions.


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Notes:** Special thanks to Prothrombintime for always graciously offering feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

_**July 3rd, 2007**_

Ianto was seated at a workstation in a secluded corner on the main level of the Torchwood One archives, staring anxiously at his watch as the seconds slowly ticked by.

He looked up, and right on schedule a ghost shimmered into existence barely fifteen feet away from him. Shifting his gaze to the other side of the stark, utilitarian space, he saw that three more of the ghosts had appeared near the exit leading to the lifts and stairwell. Several of the other people in the room looked up briefly, exchanged a few words, then returned to their work, apparently unperturbed.

Rising to his feet, Ianto held his body tense as he continued to observe the blurry manifestations. He narrowed his eyes and stepped cautiously towards the nearest one, examining it more closely. A familiar shiver of impending dread ran down his spine, and he wondered if their outlines looked a little more distinct than they had on previous occasions. Mentally berating himself for being fanciful and letting his imagination get the better of him, he continued to watch with unmoving eyes, a tight knot of apprehension settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Finally, several minutes later, the ghosts faded out of existence again.

He took a deep breath and sighed with relief. Deciding he was in dire need of some fresh air and a decent cup of coffee, he walked briskly from the room, nodding to his co-workers on the way. He climbed the stairs to the ground floor and exited the building, passing through the various secured doors and checkpoints along the way. One thing he couldn't fault Yvonne Hartman on was that she took security very seriously.

He'd discovered a new upmarket coffee shop nearby on the second day of his return to London, and he'd frequented it several times since, finding the coffee acceptable if not exceptional. Sitting at what had become his customary table towards the rear of the shop, he sipped his coffee and picked half-heartedly at the chocolate muffin he didn't know why he'd bothered to buy. With his anxiety over the situation with Jack along with the worry of the ghost business, he hadn't been eating much, and he'd noticed that he'd already lost some weight. Added to which, he felt desperately homesick. He missed Myfanwy, he missed Tosh and Owen, and most of all, he missed Jack.

Hartman was continuing her experiments undeterred, the so called "ghost shifts" increasing in frequency, and also, alarmingly, in both size and scale. Ghosts were now manifesting throughout Torchwood Tower and there had been a number of random sightings beyond the confines of the building, a couple of them as far as several miles away. Lisa had told him that the furthest sighting had been at the Powell Estate in Peckham, almost four miles south-west of Canary Wharf.

The effect seemed to be spreading and he wondered how in the world Hartman intended to contain the situation when it reached full-scale panic. Jack had tried to use his contacts to have the project shut down, but he'd hit a brick wall at every turn. Yvonne Hartman had a reputation for getting results, and she seemed to have the staunch support of both the government and the Crown. Although Jack had ascertained that there were others concerned about Hartman's recklessness, without proof of a legitimate danger there seemed to be nothing anyone was willing to do. Further complicating matters, Ianto wasn't sure how much longer he could remain at Torchwood One without arousing Hartman's suspicion. She'd left him alone since their confrontation a week earlier, but he knew that would only last so long. He was on borrowed time, but he couldn't leave without getting to the bottom of what was going on. He felt certain the ghosts were merely a precursor to something far less benign.

The ringing of his phone pulled him abruptly from his thoughts. He fished the handset from his jacket pocket and checked the caller ID, finding it was Lisa. Answering the call, his eyes widened as he listened to her hurried words.

"Lisa, are you sure it's him?" he asked urgently. "Right. I'm at the coffee shop, I'm coming back now."

With his heart pounding, he dashed out of the shop, his coffee and muffin forgotten. He needed to confirm the arrival of Torchwood One's unexpected visitor with his own eyes, and then he needed to call Jack.

###

He was halfway down the main corridor of the first floor, and trying to hold back the hope that the answer to all his problems was within reach, when he heard voices and footsteps approach. He'd been heading towards Loading Bay Two, Lisa having found out the location from one of Hartman's assistants. Quickly backtracking, he slipped into a side corridor and pressed his back to the wall, watching anxiously as the voices grew steadily closer. He could make out Hartman's arrogant tone along with the voices of a man and a woman he didn't recognise.

Finally they came into view as they continued their journey down the corridor, passing him by unnoticed. Flanked by five members of Torchwood's black-uniformed military contingent, there was a tall, lanky man with unruly brown hair styled in casual disarray, dressed in a eclectic mix of a rumpled dark brown pinstripe suit, light blue shirt, brown tie, and white Converse trainers. His companion was a middle-aged blonde woman dressed in denim jeans and jacket, her long blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

Ianto frowned as recalled the photograph Hartman had shown him over two and a half years earlier. He was certain this strange man was the mysterious alien known as the Doctor, but he wasn't the same version he'd seen in the photograph, nor did he look like any of the previous incarnations Torchwood had on file. And the blonde woman wasn't Rose Tyler, the young woman from the photograph, unless she'd aged some twenty odd years. He conceded it was a possibility, given they were both time travellers.

Once the party had turned a corner and disappeared from his view, Ianto doubled back towards the loading bay. With a furtive glance over his shoulder, he peeked inside, and as he'd expected, he saw a 1960's blue police box – the TARDIS, the Doctor's strangely incongruous ship capable of travelling through both time and space. A crew of Torchwood personnel were already in the process of loading the police box onto a vehicle for transport. He shook his head in reproach, realising that Hartman hadn't wasted any time in enforcing Torchwood One's "if it's alien it's ours" policy.

Following the path Hartman and company had taken, he soon found them in Torchwood One's main warehouse. The vast space housed Torchwood's more substantial acquisitions, and also provided roof access for receiving larger artefacts that couldn't be brought in by regular vehicles. The sleek Jathar Sunglider he'd seen previously was still present, occupying a large area at the far end of the cavernous room.

Slipping through the large double doors, Ianto quickly took cover behind a tall stack of wooden storage crates. He watched as Hartman showed off to the Doctor, presenting an example of the particle guns Torchwood had developed. The Doctor voiced his disapproval before Yvonne made a point of thanking the uniformed soldier who had handed her the gun, a man by the name of Sebastian.

"I think it's very important to know everyone by name," Yvonne rambled on self-righteously, after passing the weapon back to the soldier. "Torchwood is a very modern organisation. People skills. That's what it's all about these days." She gave the Doctor a smug smile. "I'm a people person."

Ianto rolled his eyes at the woman's disingenuous and conceited posturing, noting the Doctor's blonde companion rolled her eyes at the same time. Smiling to himself, he decided he would probably like that woman, whoever she was. Clearly neither she nor the Doctor were impressed with Hartman, and although he had issues with the Doctor's treatment of Jack, he allowed himself to feel a flare of hope that the Doctor might intervene and put a stop to Hartman's activities.

Looking around with apparent curiosity, the Doctor pulled a large black device Ianto recognised as a Magna-clamp from a nearby storage crate.

"Ah, yes," Yvonne said, gesturing at the device. "Now, we're rather fond of these. The Magna-clamp... found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach this to an object and it cancels the mass. I could use it to lift two tonnes of weight with a single hand. That's an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric."

Ianto rolled his eyes again as the Doctor dropped the device back into the crate, then distractedly brushed his hands together.

He continued to listen as the Doctor asked Hartman about the ghosts, but they were interrupted when the TARDIS was wheeled into the warehouse. The Doctor's companion protested in outrage, while the Doctor seemed unworried, merely assuring Hartman that she'd never get inside it. Hartman seemed equally unconcerned and began walking away.

As Ianto continued to watch the Doctor, he was startled to see a younger blonde woman, who he immediately recognised as Rose Tyler, peek her head out from the door of the TARDIS. The Doctor nodded covertly towards her, then he and the older woman followed behind Hartman, while Rose retreated back into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her.

Ianto frowned, conflicted on how best to proceed. He quickly sent a text message to Lisa, asking her to keep an eye on Hartman and the Doctor, speculating that they would be going up to the forty-fifth floor, where Lisa was currently working.

Still hidden from view, he stared at where the TARDIS had been tucked into a corner of the warehouse. He was just about to turn away and find a quiet spot so he could call Jack when he saw Rose tentatively step out of the police box and dodge out of the sight of two nearby workers. She then grabbed a discarded white lab coat from a vacant desk, slipped it on, and began walking confidently towards the exit. The coat proved to be an effective disguise as no one seemed to be giving her a second glance.

Deciding to take a chance, Ianto stepped out of his hiding spot and grasped hold of Rose's arm. With a startled gasp, she turned and looked at him in wide-eyed shock, and he raised a finger to his lips in warning. After glancing back to check the coast was clear, he tilted his head towards the exit. Rose looked at him uncertainly for a moment but then nodded, and they walked briskly out of the warehouse.

Ianto led them into a deserted side corridor and turned to face the young woman, offering her a small smile. "Hello. Er... sorry about that. You're Rose... Rose Tyler?"

Rose took a step back, staring at him suspiciously. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"We have a mutual friend." Ianto stuck out his hand in greeting. "Ianto Jones. I'm..." Once again he paused uncertainly, no longer sure how to describe his association with Jack. "I'm a good friend of Jack's... Jack Harkness. He told me about you... you and the Doctor... I know that he travelled with the two of you."

Rose looked astonished by the revelation as she distractedly shook his hand. "Jack? Jack's here? He's alive? Oh, my God, I thought he was dead. That's what the Doctor said. There was a battle and we..." She shook her head, evidently attempting to banish the unwelcome memories. "Where is he? Can you take me to him?"

"He's in Cardiff," Ianto replied, pausing as he wondered if the Doctor thought Jack was dead too. He supposed it was a possibility, and it would explain why the Doctor had left Jack behind, although it didn't explain why Jack was the way he was. Otherwise, apparently, the Doctor had lied to Rose about Jack's fate. "Jack runs Torchwood Three," he added. "It's based in Cardiff. I work for him. I'm his second-in-command."

Rose frowned. "Jack works for Torchwood? He's a part of all this?"

"Not exactly," Ianto hastened to explain, seeing the look of disapproval in her eyes. "It's... ah... it's kind of complicated. Cardiff branch monitors the Rift and safeguards the city from alien threats. That's what Jack does. But he despises Yvonne Hartman and everything she stands for."

"All this time, I thought he was gone," Rose murmured, shaking her head again. "Jack was... is, I mean... he's a hero. More than once I've seen him willing to sacrifice himself to save others." She looked at him curiously. "So, why are you here if you work in Cardiff with Jack?"

Ianto sighed. "I'm not really meant to be here. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this ghost business. I'm sort of a spy." He shrugged self-deprecatingly, then looked at Rose searchingly. "Do you think the Doctor can help?"

"Yeah. If anyone can fix this, it's him," Rose replied with certainty, trust and fierce loyalty radiating from her determined brown eyes. It reminded Ianto of his own unshakeable faith in Jack. "These ghosts, what are they? One of them appeared in my mum's kitchen, right in front of us."

"Sorry, no idea," Ianto replied, shaking his head. "But whatever they are, I'm sure it can't be good." He paused as what Rose had just said clicked into place. "The older woman with the Doctor... is that your mother?"

"Yeah. Her name's Jackie." Rose smirked wryly. "I bet she'll be giving the Doctor an earful. I hope she's okay. She got dragged into all of this by accident."

"I'm sure she is," Ianto offered encouragingly. "She seems quite... er... formidable."

Rose grinned. "Yeah, that's mum all right. Won't take rubbish from anybody."

Ianto smiled back, then glanced around. "I need to call Jack, but I'll tell you everything I know first. Maybe it will help."

He started moving down the corridor, gesturing for her to follow. "Come on. The loading bay you arrived in... it should be empty now. We can talk there."

Rose nodded. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she followed along behind him.

###

"Good luck."

"You too," Ianto replied solemnly, managing a grim smile.

He watched as Rose turned and exited the loading bay, disappearing down the corridor. He'd quickly filled her in on everything he knew, hoping it might help in some way. Somewhat against his better judgement, she'd been determined to investigate the mysterious sphere before she went in search of the Doctor.

He paused indecisively, biting down nervously on his lower lip as he wondered if he should go after her. But he needed to speak to Jack and Rose had refused to wait. He supposed as a companion of the Doctor's, she knew how to take care of herself. She seemed smart, spirited and tenacious, and he could see why Jack had loved her.

Retreating out of sight behind another storage crate, he retrieved his phone and dialled. As he waited impatiently for Jack to answer, he hoped the other man wasn't in the middle of anything that couldn't wait.He felt a rush of relief when Jack finally answered.

"_Ianto, is everything okay?"_

"Jack, you need to get to London as soon as you can." Ianto took a deep breath. "He's here, Jack. The Doctor. He's here at Torchwood Tower."

There was silence for a long moment and he imagined the frozen look of astonishment on Jack's handsome face. _"Ianto, are you sure it's him... a version of him who knows me?"_

"It's him," Ianto confirmed. "The TARDIS is here, and I've just met Rose Tyler. She's still travelling with him. Rose's mother is here too, she somehow got caught up in things. They're here to investigate the ghosts."

"_Have you spoken to him?"_ Jack asked insistently.

"No. Hartman's been with him since he arrived. He looks different, Jack. He's not the same man I saw in the photograph Hartman showed me, but he doesn't look like any of the other versions I've seen pictures of either."

"_Hmm. He must have regenerated since I last saw him."_

"Jack..." Ianto paused uncertainly, not sure if he should reveal what he'd just discovered. "Rose thought you were dead. Perhaps the Doctor does too."

"_Maybe. I've got to talk to him, Ianto. I need to find out what happened to me."_ Ianto could hear Jack's hurried movements in the background. _"I'm leaving for London right away."_

Ianto felt a surge of nervous trepidation at the thought of seeing the other man again. "Right. I'll see you soon, then."

"_Ianto, I want you to get out of there. The Doctor has a habit of being drawn to trouble. It's not safe."_

"I'm staying, Jack," Ianto said firmly, the other man's overprotective nature irritating him more than usual. "Besides, we still don't know what these ghosts are."

Jack growled in frustration. _"Fine. Although I swear, one of these days you're actually going to do what I tell you. But for God's sake, Ianto, be careful." _There was a brief pause, then he sighed heavily. _"I'd better go... I'll see you soon."_

The call was abruptly disconnected. With a sigh of his own, Ianto remained where he was for a moment, staring down at his phone as he tried to calm his tumultuous emotions. He slid the handset back into his pocket and headed out into the corridor, trying to decide whether he should follow after Rose or head up to the forty-fifty floor and try to find the Doctor.

He'd just started making his way towards the sphere room, when suddenly a ghost materialised a few feet in front of him. Except this time, it didn't remain as a vaguely defined, nebulous apparition.

The manifestation quickly became solid, and Ianto found himself staring in horror at an imposing humanoid-shaped robot, clad in dull grey metal armour. He'd seen the basic design before, and as his nimble mind recalled the files he'd read about the species, he knew it wasn't a robot at all, but a cybernetic organism with the remnants of a person inside, stripped of all feelings and emotions, and utterly ruthless. It was a Cyberman.

"Oh, my God," he muttered, slowly backing away as the metal monster raised its right arm and marched towards him.


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the slow update. Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for reading my ramblings and for offering invaluable encouragement and advice.

* * *

**Chapte****r Forty-Eight**

_**July 3rd, 2007**__** (continued)**_

Ianto wasn't sure how he'd made it back to the archives, alive and still in one piece. Torchwood Tower was being overrun by an army of Cybermen, in what appeared to be a planned invasion. The "ghosts", he realised belatedly, had merely been the Cybermen attempting to cross over the breach in the London rift, with Yvonne Hartman all but rolling out the red carpet and issuing them with an engraved invitation.

After scrambling away from the Cyberman that had appeared outside the loading bay, and barely dodging out of the path of its arm-mounted energy weapon, he'd sprinted blindly down an adjacent corridor. Frenzied shouting had reached his ears and he'd headed towards the sound, turning a corner and almost running head first into a confused and terrified group of Torchwood personnel, including several soldiers. After joining the group and evading several more Cybermen, it quickly became apparent that while the invaders were relentless and seemingly invulnerable to conventional projectile weapons, they were relatively slow and cumbersome compared to humans. With speed and agility on their side, and he suspected, more than their fair share of luck, the group had managed to make their way to the armoury located not far from the warehouse Ianto had left only a short while earlier.

The soldier he'd seen earlier, Sebastian, had taken charge of the group, and he'd armed the other soldiers with particle guns – the most powerful of the hand-held weapons in Torchwood's impressive arsenal. Asserting his somewhat dubious authority as Torchwood Three's second-in-command, Ianto had commandeered a weapon for himself, assuring the uniformed man that he was fully field-trained.

With the hefty weight of a particle gun in hand, and a rucksack containing a supply of replacement power packs for the weapon slung over his shoulder, he'd parted from the group, determined to find first Rose, then Lisa, and finally the Doctor. Sebastian had wished him luck, then herded the group in the opposite direction, with a plan to evacuate the non-military personnel to the building's underground garages until outside help arrived.

With his heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through his body, Ianto had struggled to make his way through the mounting chaos that had descended upon Torchwood's stronghold. He'd come across several more groups of Torchwood's military contingent along the way. Although they were doing their best to fight off the invading metallic monsters, they were vastly outnumbered and rapidly losing ground.

He'd soon discovered that while the particle guns were effective against the Cybermen, it took multiple rounds at the highest setting to completely neutralise them, rapidly depleting the weapon's limited power supply in the process, and putting the weapon at risk of overheating. With several dead Cybermen in his wake, he was already onto his third power pack by the time he'd reached the room containing the sphere.

Growling in frustration when he'd discovered the room was sealed under quarantine, and fearing for Rose's safety if she was trapped inside, he'd pounded uselessly against the door panel before reluctantly retreating to the nearest stairwell. Uncertain of what to do next, he'd headed downwards and towards what he hoped was the comparative safety of the archives.

Cautiously entering the main area, he ducked behind the nearest desk, took aim, and dispatched the pair of Cybermen standing several feet away. Tossing aside another spent power pack and jamming a replacement into the weapon, he carefully moved forward as he scanned his eyes over the area for any more of the unwelcome intruders, forcing his gaze not to linger on the handful of bodies littering the floor. They were people he'd known, or at least met and exchanged pleasantries with, but he couldn't allow himself to succumb to crippling despair for the lives already lost. His responsibility was to the living.

When he was satisfied he was alone, he returned to his workstation, retrieved a memory stick from his jacket pocket courtesy of Toshiko, and used the software contained on it to access Torchwood One's secure CCTV network.

Distractedly wiping sweat from his brow, Ianto worked quickly, locating a camera in the sphere room and accessing the live footage. His stomach clenched when he discovered that Rose was indeed inside the room, along with Rajesh and a young dark-skinned man with close-cropped hair he didn't recognise. Ianto watched with growing horror as the sphere opened and four metal creatures emerged from within. Except they weren't more Cybermen as he'd expected, but something he recognised as even worse... Daleks.

With a shocked gasp and a chill running down his spine, he turned up the volume on the audio feed and continued to watch as a large object the Daleks described as the 'Genesis Ark' was removed from the sphere. Imposing and ominous, the tapered cylindrical device was similarly shaped to the Daleks themselves.

Rose was attempting to bargain with the Daleks, but when they demanded to know who was the least important member of their group, Rajesh stepped forward. Ianto watched helplessly as two of the Daleks mercilessly killed Rajesh, crushing his skull with their suction-cup arms as they extracted the contents of his brain. With the man's final tortured screams echoing in his ears, Ianto muted the sound, slumped down onto the floor with his back to the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Closing his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the nightmare he was trapped in, he found himself desperately wishing that Jack was there. Jack would know what to do, he told himself. Jack would fight until every one of those metal monstrosities was sent back to whatever hell they'd come from.

Blindly retrieving his phone with trembling hands, he forced his eyes open and dialled, suspecting it would be the last phone call he'd ever make.

Jack answered almost immediately._"Ianto, I'm on my way. Traffic's hell though. I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to get there. Are you okay?"_

"Jack..." Ianto muttered, his voice little more than a choked whisper. "Oh, God..."

"_Ianto! What is it... what's wrong?" _Jack demanded, the pitch of his voice raising with alarm.

Ianto forced himself to take a deep breath. "It's an invasion, Jack. The ghosts... they're Cybermen. There's dozens of them, maybe hundreds... thousands... I... uh... I don't know. That's not all... the sphere... it opened. There were Daleks inside. Four of them. They've got Rose."

He heard Jack's sharp inhalation of breath. _"Daleks. Oh, no. No, no no no... Ianto you have to get out of there. They're unstoppable killing machines. I've seen what they're capable of... they'll slaughter everyone in that building without hesitation. And that will only be the start."_

"I can't," Ianto replied, pressing his eyes closed again. "People are dying, Jack. I have to try to help. The Daleks have something they're calling a Genesis Ark."

To his mind, that name could only mean one thing – that the Daleks had somehow survived the battle that Jack had been in the midst of far off in the distant future. "I think... I think there must be more of them inside... maybe it's like the TARDIS... bigger on the inside," he continued, shuddering with the thought of both Daleks and Cybermen competing for domination of the planet. "Jack, I'm not sure if even the Doctor can fix this. What if this is a battle we can't win?"

"_He'll find a way,"_ Jack said firmly, but Ianto didn't miss the trace of uncertainty in his voice. _"He has to. But for God's sake, Ianto, you need to get the hell out of there. Where are you at the moment?"_

"Archives. I tried to get to Rose but I couldn't." Ianto paused as he considered what to do next. "I'm going to try to find Lisa and Jackie Tyler. They might be with the Doctor."

"_Just stay there. Barricade yourself in if you have to. As soon as I get there, I'll come and find you."_

"I can't, Jack," Ianto protested again. "I need to try to help."

He blinked back his tears as he realised it was probably the last time he'd ever speak to the other man. It didn't seem possible he'd make it out of this alive. There seemed to so much he needed to say, but there wasn't time. He regretted that it would end like this, with them estranged and at odds with each other.

Taking another deep breath, he struggled to keep his voice steady. "Jack... I love you. Whatever happens, remember that... remember how happy you made me." His voice broke, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "I'm sorry for the things I said before I left. I didn't mean any of them. I need you to know that." He breathed out a tremulous sigh. "Don't forget me, yeah?"

"_Don't!"_ Jack said fiercely, his voice laced with pain. _"Don't you dare say goodbye. Not like this. I'm not ready to lose you, Ianto Jones. You fight like hell to stay alive, all right?"_

"I'll try my best," Ianto murmured sadly. "Look, I need to go. I... I just wanted to hear your voice one more time." He drew a ragged breath and tried to keep his voice even as he said his final words to the man he loved more than he ever thought possible. "Goodbye, Jack."

"_Ianto... Ianto!"_

Unable to bear any more, Ianto disconnected the call, swallowing down an anguished sob. Allowing himself a moment to regain his composure, he took several deep breaths, rubbed roughly to clear his eyes, then rose unsteadily to his feet.

Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he looked back at the screen and frowned when he discovered the camera feed was no longer working. He tried the adjacent rooms and corridors, but none of them were working either. Clearly something was interfering with the cameras, or they'd been destroyed. Not knowing what else to do, he accessed the CCTV feed for the forty-five floor and tried to find Lisa. If he could do nothing else, he could at least try to save her.

###

He waited impatiently as the lift ascended, whisking him upwards to the forty-third floor. He'd found Lisa on the CCTV, along with Yvonne Hartman, Jackie Tyler, and several other Torchwood personnel. The Cybermen had been dragging them away, while keeping the Doctor captive in the rift chamber. Cold terror had gripped his heart as he'd heard the emotionless, robotic voice of one of the Cybermen declare that emergency upgrading would commence. He didn't need much imagination to realise that "upgrading" meant converting humans into Cybermen. Worse still, he suspected the occupants of Torchwood Tower were only the beginning. It was a hell of a choice, he thought ruefully, extermination by Dalek or conversion into a Cyberman. He wondered if the Cybermen remembered anything of their former lives, or if their memories were removed along with their ability to feel emotions. He shuddered at the thought. At least with what the Daleks did, while no less brutal, it was quick, clean, and final.

Forcing the unwelcome thoughts firmly to the back of his mind, he shrugged off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and loosened his collar and tie. Checking his gun and slotting in the last of his spare power packs, he set his jaw determinedly. He couldn't cower in the archives like Jack had asked him to, not when people were dying all around him and the world was on the brink of alien invasion. He'd go down fighting, and he knew that Jack would ultimately understand, since he'd do the same. It's what Jack had done on Satellite Five, far in the future when he'd faced off against the Daleks, and Ianto would do no less.

The thought of the other man caused a renewed heaviness in his chest, and although he was resigned to his fate, he just wished he'd had a chance to see Jack one more time. At least he knew that no matter what happened, Jack would survive, and that gave him a small but much needed measure of peace.

The lift doors slid open and he immediately pressed himself up against the side wall, peeking his head out just far enough to check the corridor was clear. It was the closest floor he'd found on the CCTV that had appeared to be free of the unwelcome intruders. Drawing a deep breath in relief, he exited the lift and sprinted to the stairwell at the end of the opposite wall. Pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder, he listened for the tell-tale sound of heavy metal footsteps, then scrambled up the stairs to the next floor. Reaching the exit to the forty-fourth floor, he carefully eased the door open just far enough to peer through the narrow gap.

He was just in time to see a group of four Cybermen marching Yvonne Hartman, Jackie Tyler, Lisa, and several others through a curtained off area at the other end of the corridor. The distant sound of agonised screams combined with the whine of machinery reached his ears, and he was forced to swallow down the bile that rose up in his throat. Sick to his stomach with the thought of people being converted into those metal abominations, he looked dubiously down at the weapon gripped tightly in his hands. At best he could neutralise four, maybe five Cybermen before the power was depleted. If he reduced the energy level, he could perhaps disable several more just long enough for them to escape, but it was a gamble at best.

However, there was no time to think about tactics or strategy, and he needed to act if he had any chance of saving them. With his heart pounding furiously in his ears, he steeled himself, took a deep shuddering breath to strengthen his resolve, then pushed his way through the door.

He'd just reached the entrance of the area screened off with sheets of thick semi-translucent plastic when he heard a loud female voice that he recognised as belonging to Jackie Tyler. "This is your fault!" she shouted. "You and your Torchwood. You've killed us all!"

Stepping around the corner, he came up silently behind the group just in time to see Yvonne Hartman being dragged off by a Cyberman. She was taken into a area screened off with blood-splattered plastic, and it was only a moment later when her anguished screams filled the air. Frozen in horror, Ianto knew that no one deserved such an unthinkable fate, not even the woman whose foolishness and arrogance had brought this nightmare down upon them all.

His stomach churned violently, his senses overwhelmed by the terrible sounds and the awful smell of blood and seared flesh. For a long, horrible moment he was rooted to the spot, unable to think, unable to move. Then, realising that Jackie and Lisa were next in line, he somehow managed to regain his equilibrium and re-establish control over his body. He aimed his gun squarely at the back of the nearest Cyberman and pulled the trigger, taking grim satisfaction when it toppled to the floor with a heavy thud and a tortured, mechanical scream.

Lisa and Jackie turned around, both looking stunned. "Ianto!" Lisa said. "Oh, thank God..."

"Go!" Ianto shouted, already aiming at the next closest Cyberman, and knowing he'd well and truly lost the element of surprise. The Cyberman he was targeting along with two more were turning to face him, their right arms where their weapons were mounted lifting upwards in readiness to retaliate. "Hostile element detected," one of the cybernetic creatures stated in its monotonous, robotic voice. "Delete! Delete!"

Ianto fired again, disabling another of the metal monsters. "Head for the stairwell at the end of the corridor," he shouted at the two woman who had not yet moved. "Hurry! Go!"

Jackie grabbed hold of Lisa's arm and they took off down the corridor, the several other Torchwood personnel queued up for conversion taking advantage of the distraction and quickly following in their wake. A couple of them gave him looks of gratitude as they passed while the others seemed too shell-shocked to register what had just happened, just blindly fleeing from the horror surrounding them.

Fuelled by anger and adrenaline, and acting more on instinct than conscious thought, Ianto dodged to the side and ducked down low, firing at another Cyberman and hitting it directly in the chest. It collapsed to the floor with a mechanical groan. The fourth Cyberman was aiming at him, and two more appeared from beyond the bloodied plastic sheeting. Firing off one more shot, he turned and ran, weaving his way down the corridor and desperately hoping his luck would hold out for a few more precious moments as the dull thump of metallic footsteps reverberated in his ears.

Lisa was holding the stairwell door open, her eyes wide with panic, but remaining composed as she ushered the fleeing people through. Jackie Tyler in the lead and reached the stairs first, then helped Lisa to get everyone through. Ianto skidded to a halt and turned, firing at the two approaching Cybermen. The one in the lead took the hit and stumbled backwards, falling against the other and sending them both crashing heavily to the floor.

"Lisa! Go!" he shouted, turning back towards her and reaching for her arm.

Suddenly, she was in front of him, pushing him backwards and into the stairwell. Stumbling as he grasped the railing, he belated saw what she already had. The lift doors were open and two more Cybermen had emerged, arms raised, their weapons aimed directly towards them. Before Ianto could react, one of them fired, the bolt of energy hitting Lisa squarely in the chest and causing her body to immediately crumple to the floor, just inside the doorway.

"No!" Ianto screamed, stepping forward and turning his gun towards the monsters. He fired repeatedly until the power supply was exhausted. Tossing the now useless weapon aside, he scooped up Lisa's body into his arms and pulled the door closed. He hurried down the stairs, cradling Lisa's inert form against his chest. "Lisa," he muttered frantically. "Lisa, can you hear me?"

Jackie was waiting at the landing below. "Oh, my God! Is she dead?"

Ianto looked up at her, his eyes filled with tears he hadn't even realised had began to fall. Then he looked back down into Lisa's dull, lifeless eyes... eyes that had only moments ago been so vibrant and full of life.

He nodded dumbly. "Yes, she's dead," he muttered, choking back a ragged sob of despair, and tightening his grip on the body of the woman he'd once loved.


	49. Chapter 49

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to the brilliant Prothrombintime for encouragement and feedback. And thanks again to everyone who so kindly supported my efforts throughout the year. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapte****r Forty-Nine**

_**July 3rd, 2007**__** (continued)**_

Ianto lowered Lisa's lifeless body carefully to the floor, placing her in the corner of the stairwell, just beside the door to the forty-fourth floor. Gently, he closed her eyelids and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice catching. "I'm so sorry, Lisa. I tried my best to save you."

It was a blessing that she'd died quickly and with relatively little pain, instead of the unthinkable alternative of being butchered and turned into one of those metal monsters, but the realisation did little to shift the heavy weight of failure that threatened to overwhelm him. They might not have been right for each other in the end, but there had been a time when Lisa was everything to him. It should have been him now dead, not her, and once again he was filled with loathing for the organisation he'd committed himself to and the lives it destroyed in its wake. Like Tommy and countless others before, Lisa's life had been brutally and tragically cut short by her association with Torchwood. Cursing Yvonne Hartman, he wondered if there was any humanity of her left inside the metallic shell she now inhabited, and if she could feel any remorse as she aided in the devastation she'd unleashed.

He stared down at Lisa's beautiful features, torn with guilt for having to leave her body behind. He despised himself for not being able to show her the respect she deserved, but he knew he didn't have a choice. The Cybermen would be bearing down on them at any moment, and it was up to him to get Jackie Tyler to safety. He needed to ensure Lisa's death had meaning and that she didn't die for nothing. That meant saving himself, too.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, he rose to his feet and forced himself to look away, turning his gaze towards Jackie. "Right, we need to go."

Jackie looked at him sadly. "I'm so sorry. Was she your...?"

"My ex-girlfriend," he replied quickly. He drew another deep breath, pushing aside his thoughts of Lisa. If by some miracle he survived the next few hours, and the world wasn't overrun by Daleks and Cybermen, there would be time to grieve for Lisa later. "I'm Ianto... Ianto Jones," he added, realising belatedly that he hadn't introduced himself. "I'm a friend of Jack's."

Jackie frowned. "Who's Jack?"

"Sorry." Ianto realised the woman had probably never met the Captain. "Jack Harkness. He used to travel with the Doctor and Rose. He and Rose were good friends."

A look of recognition passed over Jackie's features. "Oh, that's right, I remember Rose mentioned someone called Jack once. Seemed quite taken with him." A confused frown returned to her forehead. "But she said he died."

"No, he's very much alive." Ianto barely suppressed a hysterical laugh and wondered if the stress of the last couple of hours was finally catching up with him. "It's, uh... complicated," he added weakly.

"It always is when it's anything to do with him." The derision in Jackie's voice and the emphasis on the final word left Ianto with no doubt that 'him' referred to the Doctor. "I'm Jackie Tyler. I'm Rose's mum."

"I know. I saw you earlier with the Doctor. I met Rose earlier too." Ianto nodded towards the downwards stairs. "Mrs. Tyler, we'd better go. Those things will be coming after us any moment."

"It's Jackie. None of this Mrs. Tyler nonsense." Jackie glanced down at Lisa, then looked back up at him again. "Thanks for rescuing me," she said in a tremulous voice. "If it hadn't been for you..."

"Best to try not to think about it," Ianto said firmly, the terrible sound of Yvonne Hartman's final anguished screams still fresh in his mind. He swallowed hard, his stomach convulsing violently.

The sickened look on Jackie's face suggested her thoughts were in a similar place. "I have to find Rose. She was in that room with the sphere, with those Dalek things." The fear in her eyes was unmistakeable. "Ianto, please... help me find my daughter," she pleaded.

"Yes... yes, of course. I'm worried about her too." Ianto tried to give her a reassuring smile, although he suspected it looked more like an uninspiring grimace. "Right, let's go."

Jackie nodded, looking somewhat relieved, and together they began hurrying down the stairs. Ianto didn't look back, knowing that if he did, he'd likely lose his grip on the tenuous threads of his self-control. Reminding himself that Jack was on the way, he set his jaw determinedly and focused on negotiating the stairs, listening for the echo of metal footsteps above or below.

They'd reached the twenty-eighth floor when Jackie's phone started to ring. "Doctor?" she shouted, putting the handset to her ear and sounding more than a little hysterical. "Oh, my God, where are you? They tried to download me but I got away. Ianto saved me. He's a friend of Jack's. Where's Rose? Is she all right?"

She listened for a moment then looked around frantically. "I don't know! Staircase." Then a moment later, she added, "Yes! A fire extinguisher!"

Ianto struggled to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Jackie looked at him pleadingly, and he pointed to a sign on the wall behind them that read 'N3'. "North corner, staircase three," he explained as she looked at him blankly.

Jackie repeated their location into her phone. She listened and then shouted, "No, don't leave us!"

Hissing in obvious frustration, she disconnected the call and shoved her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. "That bloody man. Fat lot of good he is."

"What did he say?" Ianto asked anxiously.

She snorted derisively. "Said to keep low... that he's doing his best."

"Guess we're on our own for the time being, then," Ianto said with a heavy sigh. He supposed they just had to hope that the Doctor had a plan.

Jackie looked up at him with a panicked expression. "What are we going to do?"

Ianto thought for a moment. Although his main priority had been to try to get Jackie to safety, he knew she wouldn't leave without Rose. But he was too much in the dark as to what was going on around them, and as much as he didn't want to consider the possibility, there was a very real chance that Rose was already dead. There were too many unknowns and he didn't like being forced to choose a course of action without knowing all the facts. "Our best bet is to head for the sphere room," he finally said. "See if Rose is still there."

He resumed his descent down the stairwell, gesturing for Jackie to follow. "Come on."

###

They were both breathing heavily by the time they'd eventually reached the first floor. They'd had several close calls, having to exit the stairwell when they'd heard Cybermen approaching from below, then resume their journey when the path was clear once more.

They were turning into the corridor leading to the sphere room when Jackie gave a startled yelp and Ianto found himself face-to-face with two Cybermen. "You will be upgraded," one of the cyborgs stated in the now familiar, but still terrifying, emotionless voice.

Jackie grabbed hold of Ianto's arm. "No, you can't! Please..." she pleaded, whimpering slightly.

Ianto put himself between Jackie and the two machines, pushing her back and trying to keep her shielded as best he could. "Leave her alone," he said fiercely, fear causing his heart to pound wildly in his chest.

He was just about to tell Jackie to make a run for it when the sound of an energy weapon being discharged filled the air, and the two Cybermen promptly collapsed to the floor, both dead. He was startled to see four people standing in front of them – the tall, lanky man he now knew was the infamous Doctor, Rose, the young dark-skinned man he'd seen in the sphere room earlier, and an older blond man around Jackie's age, holding a large weapon similar in design to Torchwood's particle guns.

"Mum! Are you all right?" Rose asked, dashing forward and pulling Jackie into a fierce hug. She smiled over Jackie's shoulder at Ianto, who nodded in reply.

"Yeah, I'm fine, sweetheart." As Rose pulled back, Jackie slowly stepped forward, her eyes wide and fixed on the blond man, a disbelieving, almost fearful, expression filling her features. "Pete?"

Ianto stepped back and watched as a reunion took place between Jackie and the older man, who was apparently Jackie's dead husband from an alternate universe. The other three looked on with reactions of fondness and amusement, and Ianto was somewhat surprised to see a very human reaction from the Doctor as he smiled affectionately at the reunited couple.

Jackie then launched into a rapid explanation of what had happened to her since she'd been parted from the Doctor, then turned towards Ianto and pulled him closer to the group. "And this lovely young fella is the one who saved me."

Suddenly everyone's attention was on Ianto, and he felt heat rising up his neck and colouring his cheeks. He'd never liked being the centre of attention, and being the sudden focus of such a formidable group of people caused him to shuffle his feet nervously. Rose embraced him in a firm hug, while the three men looked at him with curious expressions. He wondered if he'd imagined a flicker of recognition in the faces of Pete and the dark-skinned man.

"Sorry, who are you?" the Doctor asked, peering at him with inquisitive eyes that, just like Jack, seemed so much older and wiser than the youthful face surrounding them.

"This is Ianto," Rose answered for him. "He's a friend of Jack's." She paused and looked at the Doctor. "Oh, my God... I didn't tell you... Jack's alive. He's here on Earth... in Cardiff. Doctor, you said he was dead."

"Captain Cheesecake's here?" the dark-skinned man exclaimed, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Hmm, well, clearly I was mistaken," the Doctor muttered, glancing at Rose and looking vaguely uncomfortable. "It has been known to happen. Not often of course, but..."

Ianto was momentarily dumbstruck as he stared at the man who Jack had been waiting to see again for almost one-hundred and forty years. Regaining his composure, he stuck his hand out. "Ianto Jones."

The Doctor abruptly stopped babbling and looked mildly surprised, but he grasped Ianto's hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones. Thanks for taking care of Jackie here. She can be quite a handful."

"Oi!" Jackie narrowed her eyes and glared at him darkly, while Pete and the other man smirked.

Ianto quickly glanced up and down the corridor. As far as he could tell, they seemed to be relatively safe for the moment. "Can I have a word, Doctor?" he asked quietly, glancing at Rose, who was now looking at them with a vaguely suspicious frown. "It's important."

The Doctor looked like he was about to refuse, but finally nodded. "Back in a minute," he said brightly to the others. "Just need to have a quick chat with Mr. Jones here."

He strode briskly down the corridor, with Ianto following closely behind. They came to a stop just around the nearest corner, out of earshot of the others.

Ianto squared his shoulders as he faced the Time Lord. "Jack's on his way from Cardiff," he began, keeping his voice low. "He should be here soon. He needs answers, Doctor... he needs your help to undo what happened to him." He held the Doctor's gaze and looked at him challengingly. "I assume you know what I'm talking about? Rose thought Jack was dead, but you didn't, did you? You knew the truth all along."

The Doctor scrubbed his hand over his face, his features taking on a pained expression. "Yes, I knew what had happened to Jack. But there's nothing I can do for him. Jack's wrong... he's a mistake... an impossible thing. " He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Ianto felt a surge of hot anger rise up inside him. "He isn't wrong," he said fiercely, scowling at the other man. "Don't you dare say that! Do you have any idea how long he's been waiting to find you? Almost one-hundred and forty years! Jack's been stuck here since 1869. Since you abandoned him on that satellite. The only thing that's kept him going all this time is the hope of finding you again... hoping you'll be able to remove this curse he's been burdened with."

The Doctor's eyes widened slightly. "Jack's important to you, isn't he?"

"He means the world to me," Ianto replied, without hesitation. "What happened to him, Doctor? Did you do this to him?"

The Doctor shook his head again, his features taking on an expression of profound sadness. "It was Rose. She opened the heart of the TARDIS and absorbed the Time Vortex. She used it to destroy the Daleks. Jack was dead and she brought him back to life. But she couldn't control it... no human can... not even a Time Lord is meant to have that power. She brought Jack back forever." Pausing, he exhaled a heavy sigh. "Jack's an anomaly... a fixed point in space and time. As long as the universe continues to exist, so will he."

Ianto was staring open-mouthed at the Doctor, his mind reeling with the terrible confirmation that Jack would exist until the end of time itself. "And Rose doesn't know what she did?"

"No, she doesn't have any idea, and it needs to stay that way." The Doctor was looking at him earnestly. "It would destroy her if she knew what she'd done to Jack, and I know Jack wouldn't want that. It wasn't Rose's fault... it was an accident... she didn't know what she was doing. It was better for her to think he was dead."

"And was it better for Jack?" Ianto asked, the bitterness heavy in his voice. It seemed to him that the Doctor had taken the easy way out, running away from consequences of his actions instead of facing up to them. "All this time... you left him wondering why he was left behind... wondering what happened to him to make him the way he is." He shook his head in disbelief. "He doesn't know, Doctor. He doesn't know anything."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor repeated. "But I had other things to deal with at the time."

Rendered momentarily speechless by the other man's casual dismissal, it was with great difficulty that Ianto resisted the urge to punch the other man in the face.

"So this is how you treat all of your companions, is it?" he demanded angrily, incensed by the Doctor's apparent indifference and utter lack of compassion. He took a step closer, glaring at him contemptuously. "Toss them aside when they become inconvenient to you. How can you be so cold and heartless?"

The Doctor looked dumbstruck, and Ianto wondered if it was a unique experience for the alien to be taken to task over his actions by a lowly twenty-first century human. "Ianto, you don't understand. It's my instinct to get away from what Jack is... he's a fixed point... that's never meant to happen. Even the TARDIS needed to get away from him."

Unable to hear any more of the man's excuses, and appalled by the Time Lord's callous disregard for Jack's well-being, Ianto stepped backwards, shaking his head. "You don't deserve their loyalty." He didn't even try to hide the derision from his voice. "When Jack arrives, you need to tell him everything. And assuming we survive this nightmare, you need to find a way to make this right. I don't care what it takes. You owe him that much."

He abruptly turned away and returned to the group, keeping his gaze averted from the four pairs of questioning eyes, and leaving a speechless Time Lord in his wake.

###

Ianto followed silently at the rear of the group as they made their way back to the warehouse, the Doctor in the lead. The corridors were littered with the bodies of fallen Torchwood personnel and Cybermen. Some of the faces he recognised, and as he numbly negotiated his way around the carnage, he tried to force himself not to think about Lisa or Jack.

The Doctor's revelations about Jack had left him feeling sick and broken. It was taking all of his strength not to curl up in a dark corner and weep in despair for the man he loved. All this time, he'd been clinging to the hope that Jack's condition could be reversed, that once Jack found the Doctor, the immortal man's torment would finally be at an end. The thought that Jack was condemned to suffer for all of eternity seemed unbearable.

Finally, they reached the main doors to the warehouse, the Doctor muttering about needing the pair of large Magna-clamps he'd seen earlier when Yvonne Hartman had been giving him the grand tour.

The Doctor cautiously pushed the door open several inches, and they huddled around, peering inside. Ianto was shocked to see a war-zone, the air sizzling with the discharge of energy weapons as the Daleks and Cybermen battled for supremacy, a terrible cacophony of the robotic cries of "Exterminate!" and "Delete!" reverberating throughout the space. Caught in the midst of the intense fire-fight, the dwindling ranks of Torchwood's soldiers attempted to repel both groups of invaders.

Moving through the warehouse as they maintained a tight, protective formation around the device they called the Genesis Ark, the four Daleks were steadily cutting a path through the dozens of Cybermen, their weapons and shielding clearly superior. As he peered over the Doctor's shoulder, Ianto spotted a small group of unarmed non-military personnel cowering in a distant corner of the enormous space, trapped not far from the Doctor's TARDIS.

"There's no way we can get inside," Rose whispered. "We won't last five seconds in there."

"We need a diversion," the Doctor agreed.

"Er... excuse me," Ianto said, pushing his way forward. As loath as he was to admit it, the Doctor was there best and only hope. He knew what Jack would do in this situation, and regardless of anything else, he was still Jack's second and he wanted to make Jack proud, even if he'd never know. "I'll go."

"Ianto, you can't..." Rose protested.

Ianto gave her a grim smile. "I'll be fine."

He turned his gaze to the Doctor, who was looking up at him intently. "Stay low and good luck," he finally said, and Ianto nodded tersely in reply.

With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Ianto slipped through the door and sprinted across the open area, keeping low as he weaved his way determinedly towards the nearest storage crate. He just managed to duck behind it as a beam of energy shot past his shoulder, the heat prickling uncomfortably close to his face.

The body of a dead soldier was sprawled on the floor several feet away, and Ianto crawled over to him, grabbing the nearby particle gun. Checking the charge, he took aim at the nearest Cyberman and watched with grim satisfaction as it collapsed to the ground.

Drawing a deep breath, and praying his luck would hold out, he darted forward again, continuing his perilous journey. Seeking cover wherever he could, he finally reached the crate containing the large black, hexagon-shaped Magna-clamps. He slung his weapon over his shoulder, then grabbed hold of the handles on the devices, one in each hand. Using the devices to shield himself, he retraced his path as quickly as he could.

He stumbled over the body of a dead Cyberman, almost losing his balance, but finally he reached the door and was pulled to safety by the Doctor and Rose. Breathing hard, he slumped against the wall beside the door as Pete and the younger man Ianto had since learnt was known as Mickey Smith took the clamps from him.

"Nice one, mate," Mickey said, grinning at him.

"Thanks," Ianto muttered, managing a small smile in reply.

"Oh, my God," Jackie exclaimed, pushing past Mickey and peering at Ianto with worried eyes. "I thought you were done for in there. Are you all right?"

Ianto nodded, smiling at her gratefully. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine."

They turned their attention back to the room, where the Doctor and Rose were once more watching intently. Inexplicably, the Doctor was wearing a pair of common 3D glasses, one lens blue, the other red. The roof of the warehouse began to slowly open and one of the Daleks elevated into the air with the Genesis Ark, continuing upwards and through the now open ceiling, disappearing from their view as it reached the outside air.

"What're they doing?" Rose asked. "Why do they need to get outside?"

"Time Lord science... what Time Lord science?" the Doctor muttered, taking off the glasses and closing the door. "What is it?"

Ianto rolled his eyes, bemused that the supposedly great and powerful Doctor could be so dense. "They're calling it an Ark. That TARDIS of yours, it's bigger on the inside, yeah?"

The Doctor stared at Ianto for a long moment, his eyes growing almost comically wide. "It's a Time Lord prison ship."

"How many Daleks are inside?" Rose asked in a tremulous voice, all of them looking at the Doctor with the same fearful expression.

"Probably millions," the Doctor replied in barely a whisper.

Ianto's felt his stomach sink as he imagined the world overrun by millions of those hateful, metal abominations.

But before any of them could respond, the Doctor had grabbed the Magna-clamps and was running down the corridor. "We've gotta go back up! Come on, all of you! Top floor!"

"That's forty-five floors up!" Jackie protested as they set off after him, glancing at Ianto, who just gave her a resigned shrug. "Believe me, we've done them all."

Ianto raced ahead and reached for the Doctor's arm. "You could always take the lift," he said, gesturing to the nearby lift doors as the Doctor turned to face him.

The Doctor stopped, beamed at him, then ran to the lift and hit the call button. "Come on... come on... hurry up," he muttered as they gathered around, their weapons drawn just in case.

Ianto looked at the Time Lord dubiously. "You've got a plan to fix this, right?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor replied, grinning manically. "The Daleks and Cybermen are part of the problem, and that makes them part of the solution."

He started prattling on about a place called the Void and alternate dimensions, explaining that the Cybermen had come from an alternate reality he and Rose had visited before – the same reality Pete and Mickey had come from – and crossed over the Void into Ianto's reality. Hartman's efforts to open up the breach, thereby allowing the sphere to pass through, which the Doctor called a 'Void Ship', had caused the barriers between dimensions to weaken, giving the Cybermen the means to make the journey.

"Sorry... what's the Void?" Mickey asked, pre-empting Ianto asking the same question as he struggled to process everything the Doctor had just told them.

"Dead space... the space in-between dimensions," the Doctor replied. "Contains absolutely nothing. Some people call it Hell."

Ianto shivered involuntarily, the description not sounding dissimilar to the place Jack had described going when he died.

The lift doors opened, the interior thankfully empty, and the Doctor began bustling them all inside. "Hurry up! In you all go. Come on, Mr. Jones, you too."

Ianto shook his head and stepped back. "No, I'm staying here. There are still people alive that need help. I can't abandon them." He gave them a tight, grim smile. "Go on... send these metal bastards back to whatever hell they came from. Good luck."

"Ianto, are you sure?" Rose asked, looking at him worriedly. "You'll be safer with us."

"I'll be fine," Ianto assured her. "Anyway, Jack'll be here soon." After all the danger and heartache he endured over the last couple of hours, he realised how desperate he was to see the Captain, regardless of their issues.

Jackie surged forward, pulling him into a hug and then giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Be careful, sweetheart, all right?"

Ianto nudged her gently back into the lift. "I will, Jackie. You too."

He nodded to Mickey and Pete, then shifted his attention back to the Doctor. Their eyes met and Ianto continued to stare at him as the lift doors slid closed. To the man's credit, he didn't avoid Ianto's challengingly gaze.

Sprinting back to the warehouse, Ianto made his way inside again and took cover, joining in the battle as he tried to make his way to the group of trapped people.

The three remaining Daleks elevated into the air, rising up through the open ceiling, the remaining Cybermen turning their attention upwards. Using the distraction, Ianto got to the group of people and began ushering them towards the door, the soldier he recognised as Sebastian joining him in providing cover.

"Go!" Ianto shouted at the terrified group. "Head for the basement. Get as far away from the building as you can."

He'd just managed to get the last man from the group through the doorway when the entire room trembled. Looking up, he saw that the three Daleks were reigning weapons fire down upon the building, and he realised their objective with a sickening sense of despair. They were going to neutralise the Cybermen threat by bringing Torchwood Tower to the ground.

Without thinking, he dashed forward to where the remaining handful of soldiers were standing together. "We need to get out of here!" he shouted at them, as pieces of the concrete ceiling began to fall down around them and the building shuddered again.

There was an explosion at the other side of the warehouse, and within moments, the Jathar Sunglider was engulfed in flames. Ianto started to run, but he'd barely covered several feet when the ship exploded with a deafening boom and the shock wave threw him forward, slamming him into one of the larger storage crates.

Pain tore through his left arm and something heavy impacted against him, producing a blinding stab of pain at the base of his back. Ianto's vision blurred, and he slumped to the floor as the world went dark.


	50. Chapter 50

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It really helped to motivate me to get this next chapter written as soon as possible. Great to have some new readers on-board too. And my sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for brilliant support, feedback and suggestions.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**

_**October 10th, 2007**_

Ianto woke with a start, a strangled cry tearing from his throat and his eyes flying open as he drew air into his lungs with shuddering, ragged gasps. He pulled himself upright and looked around frantically, his terror slowly beginning to abate as he focused on the familiar surroundings of his bedroom bathed in the soft light emanating from the hallway. Continuing to take deep, panicked breaths, he rubbed a trembling hand over his sweat-dampened face, then turned on the bedside lamp, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the additional illumination.

The frequency of his nightmares had eased considerably, but when they did strike, they'd lost nothing of their intensity. Forcing himself to control and slow his breathing, he tried to push away the terrible images that had become an indelible part of his psyche. The latest nightmare had been a familiar theme. Restrained by a pair of silent, immobile Cybermen, their cold metal fingers digging painfully into his biceps, he'd struggled frantically to break free. He'd been forced to watch in horror as Jack was dragged to a conversion table and strapped down onto it, his agonised screams shattering Ianto's soul as spinning blades drenched in blood descended and tore into the immortal man's flesh. When the remains of Jack's body had regenerated and he'd gasped back to life, thrashing violently with terror in his eyes, they'd repeated the process, using Jack's unique nature over and over again to single-handedly create an army of Cybermen.

Ianto's heart pounded in his chest as he waited anxiously, expecting Jack to burst into the room, the man's keen hearing having undoubtedly detected his sounds of distress. When several minutes had passed and Jack's presence was not forthcoming, he finally remembered that Jack had been called back to the Hub just as they'd finished eating dinner.

Admonishing himself for his neediness, he pushed aside the bed covers and swung his pyjama-clad legs to the floor, cringing with the ache in his weakened limbs as his bare feet landed on the carpet. He reached for his walking stick, gripping the handle of the four-pronged metal pole tightly and hauling himself up with a grunt. He swayed unsteadily for a moment, finding his sense of equilibrium before shuffling with frustratingly small, uncertain steps towards the bathroom.

As relieved as he was to finally be free of the cursed wheelchair, his new found mobility was infuriatingly slow and limited, not to mention exhausting. But after over three months of almost total dependence on others, the certain hope of recovery was now tantalisingly within reach, and he was determined to do whatever was necessary to get his old life back. He was all too aware that the road to recovery was a long one, and he still faced countless hours of rehab before he'd regain his former level of mobility.

The first few days after the destruction of Torchwood One were a confused, pain-filled blur. He'd woken in a London hospital, Jack and Owen's anxious faces hovering over him. He'd slipped in and out of consciousness until he was finally lucid enough for Jack to recount how he'd found and recovered Ianto's broken body from the rubble of Torchwood Tower. It had been a miracle he'd survived, and even though his resulting injuries could have easily been far worse, the list had been extensive enough: his left forearm broken, the bones fractured in two places, several broken ribs, concussion, extensive bruising and contusions, and a compression of the lower section of his spinal cord that had left him unable to walk and effectively paralysed from the waist down.

Once he'd been treated with high doses of steroids for the inflammation of his spinal cord, and his other injuries had been stabilised, Owen had arranged for him to be transferred to a rehabilitation centre back in Cardiff. It had been a month later before he'd been allowed to go home, and almost two more months before he'd taken his first step on trembling legs which had quickly collapsed under his weight.

On his return home, he'd initially chafed under Jack's fretful ministrations, but after being mortified when he'd soiled himself in his attempts to get to the toilet on his own, he'd been forced to give up any pretence of independence. With as much grace as he could muster, he'd surrendered himself to Jack's overzealous care.

He couldn't fault Jack's unwavering devotion, although he knew it was at least partly fuelled by a profound sense of guilt, much like after the incident with John Hart. The pain and remorse in the depths of Jack's eyes was unmistakeable, and his attempts at assuring the older man of his blamelessness were met with stubborn, stoic denial. Nothing was resolved between them, any conversations on that subject apparently relegated to a time when Ianto's weakened condition wasn't a painful reminder of what had taken place between them.

When Torchwood required Jack's attention, Owen took his place, the medics brusque, matter-of-fact demeanour a welcome respite from Jack's more earnest, smothering approach. Toshiko regularly kept him company when Jack and Owen couldn't be around, watching films with him, cooking a meal for him and Jack on occasion, and with Ianto's arm now finally out of plaster, she'd introduced him to origami. He'd managed to become quite proficient, finding the ancient pastime relaxing and a welcome distraction that kept his hands and mind occupied. Even Gwen and Rhys had been supportive during his convalescence, with Rhys delivering one of his home-made lasagnes on a weekly basis. With his severely limited physical activity and a continuous stream of nourishing food, Ianto had begun to put on some weight.

His twenty-fifth birthday had been a subdued affair. He hadn't felt like celebrating, but he'd been touched by the effort his friends had made on his behalf. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he'd tried to make an effort for their sake, if not his own. Jack had given him a new watch to replace the one that had been damaged beyond repair in London, the replacement appearing to be even more expensive than the original, although he'd decided not to ascertain its actual value. Tosh and Gwen had given him a stack of new DVD's, and Owen had presented him with a nice bottle of Scotch to enjoy when he'd recovered and was no longer taking medication.

Finally reaching the bathroom, he used the toilet, then washed his hands and ran a moist flannel over his face, the coolness a relief against his flushed skin. Tugging up his t-shirt, he gave his upper body a cursory wipe to remove the residual traces of sweat, then dried himself off and smoothed the t-shirt down again. Wrinkling his nose at the still-damp fabric, he pulled it off and tossed it into the laundry basket.

After gulping down a glass of water along with a painkiller, he vainly endeavoured to tame his unruly hair, deciding he really couldn't put off getting a haircut any longer. He avoided meeting his gaze in the mirror, not wanting to see the haunted look he knew he'd find in his eyes. Then with a weary sigh, he grasped hold of his walking stick and hobbled slowly back to the bedroom, briefly considering and then rejecting the idea of making his way to the kitchen and fixing himself a cup of hot chocolate. Pulling on a clean t-shirt, he eased himself carefully back into bed, sliding under the covers once more.

He reached over to the bedside table and picked up his latest origami creation, tracing a fingertip over the intricate folds of the tiny paper pterosaur. The wings weren't quite long enough, but he thought the overall likeness was rather good, and a wistful smile crept over his lips as he thought about his beautiful Myfanwy. Jack had been taking him to the Hub for weekly visits, but it wasn't the same as being there to see her every day and take care of her, and he missed her companionship. The Hub and its myriad stairs and walkways wasn't a wheelchair friendly environment and Jack needed to carry him from the SUV to the main level, depositing him on the sofa so he could spend a little time with their pet and feed her chocolate. The visits were always at night-time and only when the Hub was deserted, a concession to preserve the tattered shreds of his dignity. He couldn't bear the thought of his colleagues seeing him being carried around like a helpless child.

The sound of the front door being unlocked interrupted his thoughts. Putting the paper Myfanwy carefully back on the table, he adjusted the pillows behind his back and watched the doorway expectantly. He didn't have to wait long before Jack appeared at the threshold, leaning wearily against the door frame, but offering up a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

"Hey there. Didn't think you'd be awake." Jack took a step into the room, a worried frown creasing his brow. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah," Ianto replied quietly. Attempting to hold his features in an impassive expression, he pulled back the covers on what had once been Jack's side of the bed, patting the empty space invitingly.

He struggled to ignore the acute stab to his heart from Jack's moment of hesitation. It didn't seem very long ago that Jack would have produced a salacious grin in response to such an invitation, striped off all his clothing with impressive speed, then climbed into bed before proceeding to skilfully divest Ianto of any clothes he might have been wearing. Instead, they were in a strange kind of no-man's land, still friends, but no longer lovers, in some ways still comfortable with each other, in other ways painfully awkward.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Jack was merely waiting for him to fully recover before bringing a close to their tenuous relationship. But then he thought about all the times Jack had comforted him since the events of London, taking care of him and soothing away his distress when he woke from his nightmares. And several times, he'd woken to find Jack sitting at his bedside, apparently watching over him as he slept. He rarely had nightmares when Jack was close.

Seeming to recover his composure, Jack tugged off his blue shirt and his socks, dropping them to the floor in his usual careless manner. Clad in his trousers and white undershirt, he settled himself down onto the bed, wrapped an arm around Ianto's shoulders and pulled him into a close embrace, pressing a kiss against his forehead. "How bad was it?" he murmured.

"Bad enough," Ianto replied evasively, savouring the brief contact of Jack's warm lips against his skin and settling his head on Jack's shoulder. He breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of Jack's pheromones soothing him, yet evoking a dissonant ache that seemed to reach down into the furthest depths of his troubled soul.

"Want to talk about it?" Jack asked, his voice gentle and undemanding.

Ianto shook his head. He'd told Jack about some of the content of his nightmares previously, but he kept the more disturbing images to himself, especially those involving Jack. "No. Not really."

Pressing himself closer to Jack's side, Ianto slipped his arms around Jack's waist, grateful he understood that some things were too terrible to put into words.

He didn't think that talking about the morbid renderings of his subconscious was particularly beneficial, and Jack had enough of his own burdens without him adding to them unnecessarily. The look of utter despair he'd seen on Jack's face when he'd revealed what the Doctor had told him about the nature of Jack's condition continued to haunt him. The Doctor had abandoned Jack yet again, having departed in the TARDIS moments before Jack had arrived at Canary Wharf. Although the Time Lord's plan to save the world from invasion had worked, Ianto despised the cowardly alien not only for running from Jack a second time, but for leaving it up to him to tell Jack the awful truth. He might have only been the messenger, but Ianto had hated himself for being the person responsible for dashing Jack's fragile, lingering hopes. He'd considered that it might have been kinder not to have relayed the Doctor's words, but he'd known that it would have gnawed away at him if he hadn't, and Jack deserved to know the truth, no matter how painful.

CCTV footage recovered by Tosh had shown that Rose, Jackie, Pete Tyler and Mickey Smith had escaped Torchwood Tower, using the devices they'd been wearing around their necks to apparently transport themselves to the alternate universe Pete and Mickey had come from. Pete had come back to save Rose, transporting her away an instant before she'd been about to be sucked into the void. He'd been saddened that Jack would probably never get the chance to see Rose again, but he was deeply grateful that they had survived, and he hoped they were now beyond the Doctor's dangerous thrall.

They'd been the lucky ones, Ianto included. Lisa hadn't been as fortunate, nor had the eight hundred and ten other souls who had lost their lives during the attempted invasion. Most of them had been good, innocent people, like Lisa, who had devoted themselves to the protection of their country. Ianto had been the only person still alive in the wreckage of the warehouse, the handful of soldiers he'd been fighting alongside at the end also all dead.

The wholesale loss of life was staggering, and it was something Ianto didn't think he'd ever be able to fully comprehend, while the cover story of a terrorist attack ensured that the public would never know the truth. Only a scarce few knew how close the population of planet Earth had come to annihilation. It was impossible not to feel that he should have done more to try to stop Yvonne Hartman, and he suspected Jack felt the same way, although they'd never spoken about it. Owen had talked to him about survivor guilt, and Ianto hadn't been able to deny that he couldn't understand why he was alive when so many had perished. During the darker moments when the guilt and grief became too much to bear, he found himself wishing that he'd died in London too. Those morbid thoughts inevitably left him feeling thoroughly ashamed, given that Lisa had lost her life while trying to save his. Two of the thirty-eight survivors had committed suicide shortly afterwards, unable to cope with what they'd witnessed. Several more had chosen to be retconned.

He hadn't been able to attend Lisa's funeral because of his injuries, but he'd spoken to her parents and expressed his condolences. Lisa had been their only child. Along with the many other families of the victims, their lives were now ruined. It was a terrible reminder that the casualties of Torchwood extended far beyond the actual victims.

Jack's fingers trailed gently through his hair, tenderly massaging his scalp, and Ianto pressed his face into Jack's neck, nuzzling the lightly stubbled skin. "You need a haircut," Jack said softly as he teased a thick curl of hair behind Ianto's ear between his fingers.

"Mmm. I was thinking about that earlier, actually," Ianto agreed, wondering if he should try to get someone to come to the apartment, rather than struggle with a trip into the city centre to the place he and Jack normally used.

"I'll give Alonso a call in the morning." Jack peered down at him, sweeping Ianto's hair away from his forehead. "I could do with one too. We can go together if you like."

"Er... okay." A sharp pang of yearning hit Ianto as he remembered the handful of times they'd done that in the past. There was an ice-cream parlour a couple of doors down from Alonso's salon and Jack would treat them afterwards, indulging in a decadent sundae for himself while invariably convincing Ianto to have a chocolate ice-cream milkshake, despite his protestations about ice-cream giving him a headache. He realised just how much he missed those brief but precious moments of normality with Jack. "Only if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble." Jack's lips brushed against Ianto's temple and he began to extract himself from their embrace. "Try to get some sleep. I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

Ianto caught Jack's arm and held it. "Jack... stay. Please."

"Ianto..." Jack began, pausing and looking at Ianto with such intense longing and regret in his eyes that Ianto almost couldn't bear to hold his gaze. "Don't make me say no to you," he added in a tremulous whisper.

"Then don't," Ianto replied, and before he could consider the wisdom of his actions, he grasped Jack's face in his hands and brought their lips together, kissing Jack insistently.

The last time they'd kissed properly had been almost four months ago, and he'd wanted to kiss Jack so many times since, but he'd been afraid of what it might mean for the affection and friendship they still shared. With their altercation prior to London still unresolved, combined with his inability to perform sexually due to his injuries, he'd feared Jack would reject him, pushing him away one final time.

Jack was tense and unresponsive at first, but just as Ianto was about to pull away, he let out a soft moan and began to reciprocate. He wrapped his arms around Ianto and pulled him closer, parting his lips and allowing Ianto to deepen their kiss.


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Notes:** Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and support.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**One**

_**October 11th, 2007**_

When Ianto woke a second time, he wasn't surprised to find that Jack's side of the bed was once again cold and empty. The sharp stab of hurt, however, was no less intense. He wasn't naïve enough to think that sex would fix anything between them, but as he'd fallen into a satisfied slumber with Jack's body wrapped protectively around him, he'd allowed himself to hope they'd reached a turning point. He now feared his impulsive and ill-advised actions may have made their fragile situation that much worse.

It had been uncertain and tentative at first, with Jack being especially gentle and doing most of the work given Ianto's compromised physical condition, but as they'd reacquainted themselves with each other's bodies, the intense passion they'd always shared had ignited once more, and it had almost felt like nothing had changed between them. Every touch whether with hands, lips, teeth or tongue had held a note of desperation, the need to lose themselves in each other overriding every trace of rational thought.

His initial surge of confidence had rapidly diminished as he'd began to worry that in his current state he wouldn't be able to satisfy Jack, and it had reminded him of the nervousness he'd felt during their first time together. However, Jack's fervent murmurings of affection and reassurance had helped him to relax, and he had almost wept with relief as he'd entered Jack, fully aroused for the first time in well over three months. Sex with Jack was an experience he'd feared he would never have the pleasure of again, and in a moment of clarity, he'd realised he would have to fight with everything he had in order to keep them together and get back to what they'd once had. Jack couldn't and wouldn't do it, so it was going to be up to him.

Stifling a yawn, he glanced at the alarm clock and noted the time was a little after six a.m. He eased himself out of bed, grasping hold of his walking stick to steady himself, and reached for his pyjama pants and t-shirt from where Jack had tossed them onto the nearby chair. He had to sit down again to awkwardly pull on his clothing, rising carefully back to his feet when he was dressed. Shivering slightly with the loss of warmth from the cocoon of his bed, he retrieved his dressing gown from where he'd left it slung over the back of the chair and slipped it on, wrapping it around his body and tying the waist.

With his walking stick for support, he made his way at a slow, shuffling gait out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, intent on fixing himself a cup of strong coffee as he idly wondered what he was going to do to occupy his day.

He stopped suddenly when he reached the kitchen. Jack was standing at the large windows at the other end of the living room, his back to Ianto as he stared out at the vivid wash of colour of the sunrise. Recovering from his surprise, Ianto altered course and hobbled over to stand beside the other man.

"I thought you'd left," he said quietly.

Jack glanced at him and Ianto immediately knew from his red-rimmed eyes that he'd been crying. "Sorry. I was getting restless and didn't want to disturb you. Needed some time to think."

Adjusting his balance, Ianto rested his right hand on Jack's shoulder and rubbed it soothingly. "You okay?"

Jack huffed out a mirthless laugh. "I could try to lie, but you'd see right through me. I think we both know I haven't been okay for quite a while now."

"Come on, let's sit down." Ianto reached for Jack's hand and squeezed their fingers together, tugging gently. "It's time, Jack. We need to talk."

A little to Ianto's surprise, Jack simply nodded and allowed himself to be led around to the sofa. Once they were both sitting side-by-side and Ianto had put his walking stick out of the way, he turned to Jack and looked at him searchingly.

"Do you regret what happened last night?" he asked before he could stop himself, his fear momentarily getting the better of him.

"No, Ianto," Jack replied, shaking his head insistently. "Of course not. I could never regret that. Although I'm not sure if it was particularly wise given the circumstances."

"Perhaps not," Ianto agreed as he tried not to show his relief. "But I think we both needed it. At least I know I did. Besides, you could have said no... you could have stopped. But you didn't."

"No, I didn't." A flicker of guilt passed over Jack's features. "I'm sorry if I... well, if I took advantage of the situation."

"You didn't take advantage, Jack," Ianto said firmly. "And for the record, I don't regret it either." He sighed heavily. "I've missed you. I miss how things were."

"I know. I've missed you, too." Jack's voice wavered and he gave Ianto a small, sad smile. "Sometimes I feel like I can hardly breathe when I'm near you, it hurts so much. And then when I'm not near you, it hurts even more."

Ianto felt a swell of emotion threaten to overwhelm him, and he had to look down at his hands, the pain in Jack's eyes too much to bear. A tense silence settled between them, neither seeming willing to speak first. Ianto bit down on his lower lip nervously as he tried to organise his chaotic thoughts. Then they both spoke at once.

"Jack..."

"Ianto..."

Jack shook his head, and with a rueful expression, he gestured at Ianto. "You go first."

"Sure?" Ianto asked uncertainly.

"Yeah."

Ianto drew a deep breath to steady himself and tried to ignore the pounding thump of his heartbeat. "Jack, you need to stop punishing me because I'm going to leave you one day."

Jack's eyes widened in what was clearly surprise. "Ianto, that's not..."

"Please, Jack." Ianto held up a hand to stop him. "Let me finish."

Jack's mouth snapped shut and he simply nodded.

"I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for you," Ianto continued, carefully choosing his words. "Every time I try to, I..." He trailed off, shaking his head in consternation. "I can't. It's too overwhelming. And I hate that I'll have to leave you one day... I hate that you'll be alone again."

Jack was staring at him, his features stony and the tension in the line of his jaw plainly visible, as if he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. Ianto shifted slightly and lowered his gaze again to where his hands were clutched tightly in his lap. He drew in another deep breath.

"I'd stay with you forever if I could," he continued, looking up into Jack's eyes again. "If the Doctor showed up in that bloody police box of his right now and said he could make me like you, I'd tell him to do it... I wouldn't hesitate for a second. Because even if we wouldn't always be together... even if I knew we'd drive each other completely barmy after a millennia or two, at least it would mean you'd never have to be alone again."

Pausing, he reached up and pressed his hand against the side of Jack's face, stroking the unshaven skin tenderly. "I'd do anything to give you that, Jack," he added in a soft murmur.

He began to move his hand away, but Jack captured it in his own and held it there for a long moment, his hard expression crumbling as he blinked to clear his shimmering eyes. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Ianto's hand, then lowered them to rest on his knee.

"I'd never want that for you," Jack said in little more than a whisper. "Not because I don't want you to always be with me, but because it would mean you'd be condemned to suffer this curse too." He squeezed Ianto's hand before finally releasing it. "I could never want that for anyone, especially not you."

Ianto nodded sadly. "I know." He lowered his eyes again, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "So all I can do is promise that I'll be here with you for as long as I can. I know it's not much. I know I'll only ever be a blink of an eye in your lifetime. I wish I could give you more, but it's the best I can do."

"But you deserve so much more, Ianto," Jack said fiercely, the familiar look of defiant stubbornness returning to his features. "We've been through this. I can't let you sacrifice..."

"I deserve to have the right to choose my own life, Jack," Ianto retorted loudly, cutting Jack off and struggling to hold back his frustration. "I deserve for you to respect me as much as I respect you."

Jack looked taken aback. "Of course I respect you, Ianto. I respect you more than anyone else I've known." He frowned. "How can you think..."

"Then you need to respect that I know what I want," Ianto added insistently, willing Jack to heed his words. "You know what I want, Jack. I want this... us. Even if I can only have part of you, if you hold some of yourself back so it won't hurt so much when I'm gone. Whatever I can have of you, I'm going to take and hold onto until I draw my final breath." The words came out in a rush and he had to stop for a moment to regather his composure. "Maybe that makes me pathetic, but I don't care."

He held Jack's gaze determinedly. "I've never been more alive than when I'm with you. I've never felt more loved or accepted. When I look back on the time I was with Lisa, as much as I loved her, I think there was a part of me that was settling, that didn't think I deserved better. Being with you, I've realised that maybe I do." He paused, but before Jack could interject, he added, "Jack, you tell me I deserve more, so what I'm saying is that I agree with you. Except you've got it wrong. The more I deserve is you."

Jack shook his head, trailing a hand distractedly through his hair and leaving it in disarray. "And if being with me gets you killed? When I was searching through the rubble in London, desperately trying to find you, I thought I'd lost you. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't breathe, I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest. It was one of the worst moments of my life, and with everything I've seen and been through, that's saying a hell of a lot."

He paused and exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm scared, Ianto. I'm terrified that next time you won't make it. I've tried to protect you, to keep you safe, but I've failed miserably. And I'll probably keep failing. I'll keep putting you in danger no matter how hard I try not to. We've been lucky... the Beacons, the Blowfish, John Hart, the Mara, Canary Wharf... but one day that luck is going to run out."

Ianto couldn't deny the truth of Jack's words. He'd had some lucky escapes and he regretted that his recent injuries had only served to remind Jack how terribly fragile their lives really were. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he'd survived the fall of Torchwood London.

"You're right, Jack," he agreed reluctantly. "And we both know that the life of a Torchwood employee tends to be a short and brutal one. But I'm not leaving. If you want me gone, you'll have to fire me or retcon me. Obviously if that's what you decide to do, I can't stop you. But I'd like to think you wouldn't do either."

Jack reclined against the back of the sofa, his shoulders slumped in apparent defeat. "It might be a kindness if I did," he murmured, lowering his eyes. Then slowly, he shook his head. "But no, I could never do that to you."

"Good," Ianto said with relief. He shuffled a little closer to Jack, but resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. "Jack, look... I know you're hurting. I see it in your eyes every time I look at you. But is it really going to hurt any less if you push me away now? Isn't it going to hurt more to live with the regrets of what might have been? For me, whether I die tomorrow or sixty years from now, the only way I won't have any regrets is knowing that we made the most of our time together, no matter how fleeting it is."

"Except that you're not the one who has to continue on alone," Jack muttered bitterly, lifting his eyes to meet Ianto's again. "You're not the one who ends up feeling like their world has been torn apart."

"But you'll have the memories of the time we had together," Ianto countered, knowing it was little comfort, but in the end it was all Jack would have. He hated that he'd inevitably cause Jack pain. "That has to be worth something? The alternative is that we'd never met, that you'd have been alone for these last four years. Would that really have been better?"

"No! Of course not. I just..." Jack's voice broke and he wiped furiously at his eyes. "I can't keep doing this. I thought I could push you away, I thought I could deal with not having you in my life as long as I knew you had a chance for something better. But I know I've hurt you... that I'm continuing to hurt you. And that's something I never wanted to do." He paused and swallowed visibly, giving Ianto a pleading look. "I need you too much, Ianto. Now more than ever."

Jack reached tentatively for Ianto's hand but hesitated, looking so broken and tormented that Ianto found himself vehemently cursing the Doctor all over again. He grasped Jack's hand and held it firmly. "So, we're stuck with each other then?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, the word coming out in a choked whisper. "You're going to have to be patient with me though."

"I can do that," Ianto said without hesitation. "In case you haven't noticed, I can be a very patient man."

"Believe me, I've noticed." The barest hint of a smile crept across Jack's lips, a glimmer of warmth appearing in his eyes. "Anyone else would have given up on me a long time ago." He tugged on Ianto's hand. "Come here."

They met in an awkward embrace, clinging to each other almost desperately. Ianto simply held onto Jack as tightly as he could, hoping it was somehow enough as Jack's face nuzzled against the junction of his neck and shoulder. With such a turbulent mass of emotions spiralling through Ianto's thoughts, he was hard pressed to single out the most prevalent feeling. Somewhere in the midst of the turmoil, however, was a sense of profound relief.

When they finally eased apart several minutes later, he tried to give Jack a reassuring smile. "Jack, I need you to promise that you'll never push me away again because you think I'll be better off. If one day you decide you don't want to be with me anymore, I'll have to accept that, but please don't push me away for any other reason. Have we got a deal?"

"Yeah, it's a deal." Jack reached up and traced his fingers down the side of Ianto's face, caressing the stubbled skin. "Ianto, you know none of this has been because my feelings for you have changed, right? It's never been about not loving you enough, or not wanting to be with you."

"Well, I'd hoped..." Ianto murmured.

Jack leaned in and softly kissed his lips. "I never want you to doubt what you mean to me."

Ianto nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "There's one more thing," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I want you to try not to give up hope. At least not completely. Chances are the Doctor will show up again someday, he seems to have a habit of doing that. I know he said there's nothing he can do, but I don't believe him. There has to be something."

"I'm not sure I can believe that," Jack said with a sigh, his voice heavy with scepticism. "I don't think the Doctor would have lied about not being able to fix me."

"Maybe not," Ianto admitted. "Although you'll have to forgive me for not having as much faith in him as you do. He might have saved the world again, but I'll never be able to forgive him for how he's treated you." He looked at Jack appealingly. "Will you at least try?"

"Okay. I'll try," Jack agreed. His response was half-hearted at best, but Ianto decided he'd take what he could get. "So, what happens now?"

"Well for starters, you stop sleeping on the sofa and start sleeping in our bed again." Ianto kept his tone resolute, leaving no room for argument. "And you're going to take me on a date."

Jack's eyebrows lifted and there was an expression of fond amusement in his eyes for the first time it what had been far too long. "Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yep," Ianto said firmly. "But in the meantime, how about I make us some coffee?" He huffed out a wry half-laugh. "You know, it really should be illegal to have heart-to-heart conversations at six in the morning without consuming at least one cup of industrial strength coffee first."

Jack chuckled. "I'd love some coffee, Ianto." He rose to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on, let's make it together."


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's Notes: **This is kind of an unplanned bonus chapter. It's a bit of a light interlude, but hopefully it's still enjoyable. Thanks to Quiet Time for providing the prompt which inspired the scene in the second half of the chapter. Hope I did it justice!

The next chapter will return to James and Dylan, then it's going to be time for Jack's inevitable departure. My sincere thanks to everyone who continues to read, review and support this story. And of course, thanks to the brilliant Prothrombintime, who always so graciously finds time to read my ramblings and offer feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Two**

_**October 11th, 2007 (continued)**_

After their emotional conversation that morning, the rest of Ianto's day was anti-climatic and decidedly mundane. He and Jack had enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee together, then Jack had showered and gotten himself ready for the day, and, as had become their routine, he'd assisted Ianto with showering and the rest of his morning ablutions. Then he'd departed for the Hub, kissing Ianto firmly, and reminding him to call if he needed anything.

Jack had phoned later that morning to say he hadn't been able to get them an appointment at Alonso's until the following day, and with his next physical therapy session not until the day after tomorrow, Ianto had spent the entire day at the apartment. Welcoming the solitude, he'd spent some time reflecting and writing in his diary, and the afternoon had been punctuated by a visit from Owen.

The acerbic medic had immediately picked up on the change in Ianto's demeanour. "So, the two of you have finally sorted yourselves out?" Owen had asked with his trademark unapologetic candour. "Well, thank God for that! Maybe our illustrious leader will stop stomping around like a bear with a bloody sore head all the time." Then he'd clapped Ianto heartily on the shoulder. "It's good to see you looking happy again, mate. After everything you've been through, you deserve it."

Ianto had made them coffee and they'd chatted amiably for a while before Owen gave him a check-up and took his leave. But Owen's casually offered words of support had stayed with him, and he'd felt the familiar stirrings of guilt niggle at the walls of his consciousness. Although he felt like an indescribably heavy weight had finally lifted, he wasn't sure if he had the right to be happy again. Not when Lisa and so many others had lost their lives... and not when Jack had to endure the torment of perpetual life, suffering the pain of losing everyone he allowed himself to care about.

He'd hesitantly voiced his concerns to Jack later that evening. He was lying naked on their bed, spread out on his stomach, an equally naked Jack in the process of pampering him with a full body massage.

"I understand how you feel, Ianto," Jack said quietly. "Believe me, I do. Perhaps better than anyone. But as trite as it sounds, life is for the living, and we honour the dead by living our lives as best we can. Otherwise the guilt will eat away at you until there's nothing left."

Ianto turned his head to look up at Jack. The pain reflected in the depths of Jack's eyes reminded him that Jack had witnessed the loss of life on a scale far exceeding the events of Canary Wharf. Looking abashed, Jack leaned down and kissed Ianto's bare shoulder. "That's a lesson I need to remind myself not to forget, too."

They'd spoken few words after that, losing themselves in each other's bodies.

It was later when they were wrapped around each other, relaxed and languid as they shared the occasional unhurried kiss, that Ianto found Jack gazing at him curiously. "Ianto... if you didn't work for Torchwood, what would you do?"

Ianto stiffened in Jack's arms, and from the look on Jack's face, the older man had obviously realised how his question had been interpreted. "Hey, relax. I'm not going to retcon you and try to set you up in a new life. I promised I won't try to push you away again."

Jack extricated his right arm from their embrace and shifted so he was resting on his elbow. Peering down at Ianto, he shrugged slightly. "I'm just curious, that's all."

Ianto took a deep breath. For one awful moment, he'd wondered if Jack had changed his mind about them staying together. Silently berated himself for being paranoid, he sighed and looked down at where Jack's left hand was lightly stroking his stomach. "It's a bit daft," he muttered.

"What is?" Jack asked, the movement of his hand coming to a halt.

"You'll laugh at me."

"No, I won't. Unless you're going to tell me you secretly dream of running away, joining the circus, and becoming a clown. Then all bets are off."

Ianto shuddered. "I hate clowns."

"Huh." Jack chuckled softly. "Guess I'd better not take you to the circus next time it's in town then."

"No, really." Ianto looked up into Jack's eyes again. "Absolutely terrified of them."

Jack leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary old clowns. So are you going to tell me?"

Ianto rolled his eyes. "No."

"Hmm." Jack traced a finger teasingly along the sensitive skin of Ianto's inner thigh, causing a shiver to run along his spine. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that I'm intimately familiar with every inch of this gorgeous body of yours. I know all your most ticklish spots. I bet I can have you begging for mercy in under sixty seconds."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

Jack gave him a devilish grin. "Are you sure about that?"

Ianto breathed out a sigh of resignation, knowing he'd been beaten. "Fine. Okay... well, I used to think I'd like to be a writer... I wanted to write spy stories." He sighed again, pressing his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to see the mockery in Jack's face. "See, I told you it was daft," he muttered.

"No, it's not," Jack said, and Ianto opened his eyes again to find the other man merely looking thoughtful. "So, you'd be sort of like a modern day Ian Fleming, huh? Well, you enjoy writing. You're always writing in your diary. You've got a brilliant mind, you're imaginative, and you're very eloquent. Plus, that Bond obsession of yours might come in handy. So, no, I don't think it's daft at all."

"It's not an obsession," Ianto retorted indignantly, but touched by Jack's belief in him. "Just a healthy interest."

"Of course it is," Jack agreed, the amusement evident in his voice. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you could be a brilliant writer, Ianto." His features tensed and flickered with regret. "I'm sorry you'll probably never get the chance to try."

"Doesn't matter," Ianto said resolutely. Tilting his head up, he kissed Jack firmly on the lips, not wanting him to descend into a mire of guilt and self-recrimination again. "We've been through this, Jack. I'm exactly where I want to be."

"I know," Jack said, and to Ianto's relief, his features began to relax again. He nudged Ianto's shoulder. "So, what else would you do?"

"Oh." Ianto bit down on his lower lip as he thought for a moment. "Um... well, I suppose I'd like to travel a bit. You know, see some of the world."

Jack nodded. "Paris."

"Sorry?" Ianto frowned in confusion.

Jack gave him a small, sad smile. "When Gwen was talking about her honeymoon in Paris. I remember the look on your face. You envied her."

"I suppose I did," Ianto admitted, recalling how he'd felt all those months ago. He hadn't realised his emotions had been quite so transparent, but he knew Jack had grown extremely adept at reading him, no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was feeling. "Just for a moment. It sounded nice... exciting. To see somewhere completely new. Apart from London, I've never had the chance to do that."

"I'll take you there someday," Jack said suddenly, determination filling his voice. "I can't say when, but maybe in the new year, once you're recovered and the Rift looks like it's going to give us a break. We could at least stay overnight and see some of the sights." He paused and glanced over to where his wrist-strap was sitting on the bedside table. "If my Vortex Manipulator still worked, I could take you anywhere on the planet in the blink of an eye. Anywhere in the entire galaxy even." He sighed heavily. "If things were different, I'd show you the wonders of what's out there, Ianto."

Ianto pulled Jack down and into a fierce kiss. "It's enough that you want to, Jack," he murmured when they'd eventually pulled apart and settled comfortably against each other. "More than enough."

###

It was the following day, and Jack looked at Ianto from across their table with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Well, this wasn't what I thought you had in mind when you said you wanted to go on a date." His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And I thought you didn't like ice-cream."

"Oh, I don't," Ianto agreed, allowing himself a small smirk. He gestured towards Jack's enormous and sinfully decadent serving of vanilla and chocolate ice-cream adorned with more toppings than he could count. "How's the sundae?"

"Mmm. It's delicious." Jack spooned a large scoop into his mouth and a glob of strawberry topping dribbled down his chin. "Sure you don't want some?"

Rolling his eyes, Ianto passed him a white paper napkin. "No, thanks. I'm fine."

Jack grinned unrepentantly and wiped at his face. Glancing around the sparsely populated shop, Ianto was glad they'd managed to avoid the busier times of the day. His walking stick stood conspicuously beside his chair, and he'd struggled to get to their table under his own steam, having tired himself out with the brief journeys from the apartment to the car and then from the car to the hairdressing salon. It was with great relief when he'd eased himself into the chair at their table in the ice-cream parlour and been able to take the weight off his legs.

He took a generous mouthful of his chocolate ice-cream milkshake and swallowed. As a sharp stab of pain shot through his skull a moment later, he regretted his carelessness. "Ow," he muttered, pulling a face and rubbing at his forehead. "It's too cold. I'm getting a headache."

"That's what you always say," Jack said with a chuckle, his tone of voice entirely unsympathetic.

"Well, that's because it's true," Ianto retorted, scowling at him indignantly.

It was a familiar routine and it took all of his stoic reserve not to break into a broad grin, the rush of joy from sharing something so simple and mundane with Jack once again temporarily banishing the darkness of the last several months. He was under no illusions that everything was completely fixed between them, and he knew their relationship would continue to be fraught with difficulties and heartache. But for now he was elated just to have Jack back as his lover and partner.

Waiting until the ice-cream induced headache began to ease, Ianto took a smaller, more tentative sip. Lifting his gaze back to Jack, he found the older man staring at him intently, and he wondered if he was imagining the hungry glint in Jack's eyes.

He frowned in confusion. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"You've got a milk moustache."

"Oh." Unable to resist the temptation, he gave Jack a devilish grin and ran his tongue slowly along his upper lip, collecting the residue of chocolate flavoured milk. Jack's eyes widened in response and he swallowed hard. "Better?" he asked innocently.

Jack exhaled a sigh of obvious frustration and nodded. "Yeah. Although that wasn't what I had in mind for cleaning it up." He produced a put-upon pout. "You spoil all my fun."

"Not always," Ianto said mildly, his mind drifting back to their activities together the previous evening. With some serious making up to do, he thought they'd made a very satisfactory start. And in the morning, he'd had the pleasure of waking up to find Jack stretched out beside him, soundly sleeping and snoring softly.

"Besides, it's probably for the best," he continued, giving Jack a knowing grin. "Wouldn't want you being inappropriate in public, and I think it's safe to say that whatever you had in mind would have ended with you being on decaf for a month. Maybe even two."

Very deliberately, he took another sip of his milkshake, ensuring his upper lip was again coated liberally. Lowering the glass, he quirked an eyebrow as he gave Jack a challengingly stare. He suspected few people knew that Jack could show surprising self-restraint when the stakes were sufficiently high.

To Jack's credit, he didn't immediately relent. "I think you're bluffing. You've tried that threat before and never followed through."

Ianto shrugged. "Want to put your theory to the test, Captain?"

They stared hard at each other for a long moment, neither of them backing down. Finally, Jack growled and thrust a white napkin across the table. "Here. Has anyone ever told you you're a shameless tease?"

"Once or twice." Ianto took the napkin from Jack. "Thank you," he said politely, using it to wipe his upper lip. He smiled sweetly at Jack and continued drinking his milkshake, careful to avoid any further incidents.

It was a couple of minutes later when he realised Jack was staring at him again, this time his expression seemed more wistful and harder to read. "Jack? Something wrong?"

Jack shook his head, a soft smile playing over his lips. "Just admiring the view and thinking how good it is to have my gorgeous Ianto back again. And you know, it's amazing what a difference a haircut can make."

Ianto self-consciously ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, now restored to its usual short, neat style. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Not at all," Jack replied. "Don't get me wrong, I liked it. A lot." He paused, a teasing grin creeping across his lips, the wistful expression suddenly gone. "Actually, it was kind of ador–"

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Don't you dare say it, Jack!"

"Well, it was! And very sexy too." Jack gave him a suggestive leer. "Kind of a shame you didn't grow a beard to go with the longer hair though. That would have been really something."

Ianto huffed derisively and rolled his eyes. He'd always hated not being cleanly shaven, and as much as he found a lightly stubbled Jack strangely arousing, he'd never thought facial hair on himself was a good look. If that was one of Jack's fantasies, it would have to remain firmly in the realms of his imagination. There was little he wouldn't do to give Jack pleasure, but even he had his limits. "Right. From this moment on, the 'A' word is banned from your vocabulary."

"You can't do that," Jack protested.

"Yes, I can. I just did. Don't make me bring out the 'D' word again, Jack. You know I will."

"Well, if you get to ban a word, so do I. And I'm banning you from ever threatening me with the 'D' word again." Jack grinned triumphantly.

Ianto thought for a moment. "All right. Deal."

"What? Just like that?" Jack looked at him suspiciously.

"Yep." Ianto gave him an impish smile. "Besides, there's plenty of other things I can do to keep you in line. And you know how much I enjoy a challenge."

Jack groaned dramatically, and they continued their playful banter for several more minutes until a comfortable silence eventually settled between them. Ianto had just finished his milkshake when Jack reached across the table and grasped hold of his hand, stroking the tips of his fingers lightly over Ianto's palm.

"I really have missed this," he said softly, his eyes looking earnestly into Ianto's. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

"Never could," Ianto replied, his chest tightening with the undisguised honesty in Jack's voice. He wound their fingers together and squeezed Jack's hand tightly.

He didn't know what fate had in store for them or what calamity might strike next that would threaten to tear them apart. The trauma of Canary Wharf still felt like a raw, open wound that he knew would remain long after his physical injuries had healed. Meanwhile, Jack would continue to suffer with the impossible weight of his condition, living in fear of the day when Ianto's life irrevocably came to an end.

But, despite all of those obstacles, Ianto felt cautiously hopeful for the first time in what seemed like a long while. He just hoped their reprieve wouldn't be too brief. He hoped he and Jack could have a little time just to enjoy being together once again.


	53. Chapter 53

**Author's Notes: **Thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering support, feedback and encouragement. Enjoy! PS. Can anyone guess the significance of the date Jack chose for his birthday (within the context of the story) without cheating? :-)

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Three**

_**November 1st, 2008**_

Jack smiled to himself as he observed the young man sitting opposite him, allowing his gaze to roam as he studied every aspect of Dylan's handsome, youthful features. The soulful eyes he'd grown to adore were currently fixed on the passing landscape, and Jack found himself mesmerised by the glimmer of excitement that radiated from the intense blue depths. Those eyes were capable of expressing a vast spectrum of emotions and were such a contrast to Dylan's placid, emotionally reserved exterior. They hinted at the Welsh fire that ran through the man's veins, and the awareness of Dylan's hidden depths tantalised and thrilled Jack in a way that was different to anything he could remember experiencing before.

He'd lived long enough and made more mistakes than he was willing to count to know the signs. Lust and infatuation were usually safe, they burned hot and fierce, but tended to fade quickly, providing physical gratification without any unwelcome emotional attachment. On the surface, his association with Dylan had the hallmarks of an intense but fleeting relationship, where both parties moved on when the attraction had run its course. However, he knew without a shadow of doubt that what he'd found with Dylan wasn't anything so short-lived and uncomplicated. This was what he'd always run from in the past, what he'd tried to avoid for over a century. Except, for the first time in almost as long as he could remember, he wasn't running away. This time, he was grabbing hold with both hands and refusing to let go.

Dylan had recovered quickly from the surprise of Jack's announcement of their impromptu trip. As the younger man's slack-jawed expression had begun to fade, Jack had found himself pressed up against the door of the apartment, his mouth claimed in a searing kiss that had left him breathless and desperate for more. Much to his disappointment, he'd been left unsatisfied as Dylan had turned his full attention to the task of packing for their trip. Jack had tried to expedite the process, wanting to devote the time before their departure to more pleasurable activities, but his haphazard, carefree approach had been met with abject disapproval along with some seriously impressive eye rolling. In the end he'd had to settle for sprawling on the bed and watching with fond amusement as Dylan packed a compact suitcase with his trademark fastidious attention to detail.

They'd travelled by taxi to St. Pancras station, and their train to Paris was now whisking them towards their destination with impressive speed. Jack's preferred modes of transport were ones in which he was in the driver's seat, regardless of whether it was a land-based vehicle, aeroplane, or spaceship, but he couldn't deny the appeal of something so delightfully mundane as a journey by twenty-first century railway train.

Lost in his contemplative thoughts, it was a few minutes later when he noticed that a small furrow had appeared between Dylan's eyebrows. The Welshman continued to gaze out through the window, but his expression had become distinctly wistful. After continuing to watch the younger man for another minute or so, Jack's curiosity finally got the better of him.

Leaning forward, he rested his hand gently on the other man's knee. "Hey, everything okay?"

Dylan turned his head to face him, blinking several times. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Jack asked, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.

Dylan nodded, holding Jack's gaze for a moment before looking down at his hands. Just as Jack thought he wasn't going to get anything further from the Welshman, Dylan looked up at him again.

"I was thinking about Lisa... my girlfriend," he said softly. "The one who died." He breathed out a shuddering sigh and shook his head. "There were so many things I thought we'd do together. I suppose when you're young, you think you've got all the time in the world. It doesn't seem fair that she missed out on so much."

"No, it's not," Jack agreed sadly.

Dylan hadn't mentioned his former girlfriend since the day of their fateful meeting in the park, and Jack was a little surprised that he was mentioning her now, not that it bothered him. He may not have known Dylan for long, but he felt certain that the Welshman was someone who didn't easily let people into his heart. Lisa had obviously been someone special, and he couldn't help wondering if he could compete with the ghost of the woman Dylan had quite possibly been hoping to spend his life with.

"Sorry," Dylan murmured, his features taking on an apologetic expression.

Jack looked at him with confusion. "What for?"

"You're taking me on this amazing trip, and here I am going on about my dead girlfriend." Dylan shrugged. "Kind of ruins the mood, doesn't it?"

"That doesn't matter," Jack assured him. "You loved her and you miss her. There's nothing wrong with that. I've lost people who mattered to me too and it's never easy to let go." He leaned in closer, holding Dylan's gaze. "You know you can talk to me about anything you like? Anything at all."

Dylan seemed to consider that for a moment. "I'm not much of a talker, James. Never have been."

"And that's okay, too. Neither am I, if I'm completely honest about it. Not when it comes to things that really matter." Jack smiled ruefully. "Guess we've got that in common."

"Yeah. I guess we have," Dylan agreed, the sadness in his features beginning to fade.

The continued to look at each other, and Jack was relieved when Dylan smiled again, the expression seeming more genuine and unforced this time. "So, where are you taking me first when we get to Paris?"

Jack grinned. "I'll give you one guess. Not afraid of heights are you?"

"A bit," Dylan admitted, then his eyes flashed with a hint of playful amusement. "You might have to hold my hand if I get scared."

"I think I can manage that," Jack said with a soft chuckle. He nudged Dylan's knee with his own. "Now, tell me about what you want us to see and do."

###

Jack devoured his third beignet ravenously, having first lavished it with strawberry jam. He'd gleefully worked his way through all the pastries on offer since their arrival, but the beignet remained his favourite, being the French equivalent to his much-loved jam donuts. Moaning in appreciation, he earned himself a look of fond exasperation from Dylan, who was sitting opposite him.

They were tucked away at a table in a quiet corner of what had become their regular cafe since arriving in Paris a week earlier. It was located just a brief stroll from their hotel in the centre of the city, and they'd taken to enjoying leisurely breakfasts there before beginning whatever activities they'd planned for the day.

Nibbling on a piece of his Pain au Chocolat, Dylan silently passed Jack a paper napkin in what had become a familiar routine. No matter where they were or what they were doing, the younger man always seemed to be at the ready to deal with whatever mess Jack invariably created.

"Mmm, that was delicious," Jack said, wiping his mouth. "I'm going to miss these."

"Well, you'd start getting fat if you kept eating them at this rate," Dylan commented, unhurriedly sipping his coffee, his eyes shining with amusement.

Jack had to concede that the younger man had a point. While his fifty-first century origins ensured he didn't have to worry about twenty-first century plights such as cancer, heart disease, cholesterol or high blood pressure, he could become overweight. He was still getting used to the idea that he now had to take care of his body. He'd gotten too used to having little regard for his physical well-being, knowing that his next death would reset him back to the condition he'd been in when he'd died the first time.

He gave Dylan a suggestive wink. "I'm pretty sure I can convince you to help me work it off later."

Dylan rolled his eyes, and Jack grinned, turning his attention to his coffee.

They'd spent the week taking in the sights of the romantic city, beginning with the Eiffel Tower on their arrival, followed by The Louvre and Musée d'Orsay the following day, along with a boat tour of the Seine River. They'd sampled coffee at various French cafes, visited numerous museums and historic locations, and dined out at a number of different restaurants, including the Jules Verne restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower, where they'd enjoyed a delicious five-course meal and spectacular views over the city. Their nights were spent taking full advantage of the large, comfortable bed in their hotel room, losing themselves in the throes of passion.

Jack had been to the city several times before, his last visit three decades earlier on Torchwood business. This time around he was enjoying being simply a carefree tourist, but mostly he was enjoying sharing the experience with Dylan, whose quiet enthusiasm was endearing and infectious. Watching the Welshman experience the famous city for the first time and seeing the excited gleam and wonder in his eyes, Jack found himself appreciating Paris in a way he hadn't done before.

Dylan had managed to pick up a smattering of French with impressive ease, and hearing the Welshman wrap his tongue around the seductive language tended to have a strange, overpowering effect on Jack. He decided he'd have to encourage the Welshman to continue working on his foreign language skills when they returned to London, and preferably in the bedroom where Jack wouldn't have to worry about any lack of self-restraint.

"What are you smiling about?" Dylan asked, looking at him curiously.

"Just thinking about these last few days," Jack replied nonchalantly, realising he'd probably had a dopey look on his face. "So, where are we going next?"

"We haven't even finished this trip yet," Dylan protested. "Bit soon to be planning another one, isn't it?"

Jack shrugged. "Doesn't mean we can't start thinking about it. Besides, coming to Paris was just to whet your appetite. So, where else would you like to go?"

Dylan looked thoughtful as he continued to sip his coffee. "Italy maybe? I'd like to see Rome and Venice. Maybe tour around a bit and see some of the other regions too."

"Great idea," Jack agreed. "We could make it a longer trip... a few weeks... maybe a month."

"Well, as brilliant as that sounds, it's going to be expensive." Dylan frowned. "I've got some savings to last me for a while, but I'll to have to find a job eventually."

"What about your book?" Jack asked, wondering if he'd given up on the idea.

"If I spend my money travelling, I mightn't have enough left to support myself while I write." Dylan shook his head and sighed. "Anyway, there's no guarantee I'll get published, assuming I can even get something written that's half-decent. It's all a bit daft, isn't it?"

"No. You should do it," Jack said firmly. "You won't know unless you try. Don't worry about how much our travels will cost. I've got plenty of money." He waved his hand dismissively, giving Dylan a sly grin. "Told you I was a good catch."

Jack couldn't deny that he liked the idea of being able to spoil Dylan a little. He'd never been someone who coveted possessions and excessive luxury, so money had always held little meaning for him, although he recognised the freedom it could provide. Even during his time running cons, it had been more about the excitement and thrill, and less about the potential financial gains. Beyond having enough money for day-to-day expenses, he didn't see much point in it if he couldn't give some happiness to someone he cared about. Thinking of the happiness he'd seen in Dylan's face so many times over the past week, any amount of money seemed like a small price to pay to evoke those emotions again.

"James, I can't let you..." Dylan began.

Jack held up his hand to halt the man's protests. "Just chip in what you can manage and I'll cover the rest, okay? It's not a problem, I promise."

He paused and looked at Dylan intently. There were so many things he wished he could tell the other man, but he'd resolved that his long, complicated past should remain firmly in the past, where it belonged. What mattered to him now was the new life he'd embarked on, and the man he was increasingly hoping he'd be able to share it with. "Just don't give up on your dreams, Dylan. Trust me, life's too short."

Dylan looked like he was about to protest further, but then he simply nodded. "What about you, James? What are your dreams?"

"This," Jack replied with certainty. "This is my dream... being here with you... finding someone to give my life meaning." Finding someone to love, he added silently to himself.

He felt his throat tighten with emotion as he realised the truth of his words. Having the chance of a normal, mortal life and someone special to share it with was what he wanted more than anything else. For a very long time, it had all been impossibly out of his reach, and he'd given up on the hope of having the kind of normal life that other people took for granted. A part of him still couldn't believe it was actually happening now.

Wondering if he'd said too much, and again reminding himself that their relationship was still very new, he looked at the other man anxiously. But Dylan was just gazing back at him with warmth and affection in his eyes, and something else that seemed very much like understanding. Remembering how lost they'd both been when they'd met in the park, he wondered if Dylan felt the same way.

He suspected he received his answer when Dylan reached across the table, grasped Jack's hand in his own, and squeezed it tightly.

###

That night, they were lying quietly in their hotel room bed, Jack with his arms wrapped around Dylan and holding him close. Dylan's fingers were trailing lazily through Jack's hair, gently massaging his scalp. Jack's mind drifted, and although he was content and relaxed from the rush of post-coital euphoria, his thoughts began to take a melancholy turn. Involuntarily, he tightened his hold on the younger man.

Sometimes he found himself clinging almost desperately to the Welshman, overcome by the irrational fear that if he let go for just a moment, his new found happiness would abruptly vanish. He was thankful that if Dylan noticed, as he almost certainly had given how perceptive he was, he hadn't said anything.

It almost seemed like a dream. Although Jack knew all too well how everything could change in the blink of an eye, it continued to astonish him how his life had changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time, and not once, but twice. It had been only three weeks since he was sitting in an empty hotel room, his hand gripped tightly around his Webley as he considered putting an end to his existence one final, permanent time. Part of him was terrified that he'd wake up and find himself back there again, that he'd never actually left, and that everything he'd experienced since was nothing more than an elaborate retcon-induced delusion. An involuntary shudder rippled through his body as he recalled those dark, desolate moments.

Dylan lifted his head from Jack's shoulder, looking at him with concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

Jack nodded, swallowing hard. Dylan was still looking at him with a worried expression, and Jack reached up and stroked his cheek tenderly. Tilting his head up, he brushed a soft kiss against Dylan's lips. "I'm happy," he said in barely a whisper, almost afraid that by saying the words aloud, the dream would shatter.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Dylan asked tentatively, sadness creeping into his eyes.

"Yeah." Jack's voice broke as he felt tears threaten to fall. "Feels like a lifetime," he murmured, fully aware of the irony of his words.

He pressed his face against Dylan's shoulder as a ragged sob broke free. Dylan pulled him close, his fingers continuing to gently stroke Jack's hair.

Suddenly, Jack wanted to tell Dylan everything, to unburden himself without reserve or restraint. But the risk was too great, and it was too much for someone who was ignorant of what was out there, even someone as innately calm and rational as his young companion. Beyond his concerns for their fledgling relationship, he didn't wish to burden the other man with the unsettling knowledge of the myriad dangers threatening the Earth and its people, and forever change his concept of reality. Dylan had already lost the woman he'd loved to Torchwood, and feeling fiercely protective of his new lover, Jack didn't want to sully Dylan's soul with the horrors of the clandestine organisation. He'd always thought there was a lot to be said for the age-old proverb 'ignorance is bliss'.

"And you're scared it's not going to last?" Dylan asked, the words seeming more a statement than a question.

With reluctance, Jack pulled back just far enough to look into Dylan's eyes. "Are you sure you're not psychic?"

Dylan gave him a gentle smile and wiped a stray tear from Jack's cheek with his thumb. "Maybe you're not quite as good at concealing yourself as you think." There was no hint of admonishment or judgement in his voice, only compassion and understanding, just like at the cafe earlier that day.

"No, maybe not," Jack conceded, smiling weakly.

"James, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Dylan's tone was earnest and he was looking at Jack determinedly. "Neither of us have to be alone anymore. And whatever this is... fate, destiny, serendipity..." He shrugged slightly. "Doesn't matter. We've got each other. I don't want that to change."

"Me neither," Jack agreed with equal determination.

Dylan took Jack's face in his hands and kissed him fiercely. Jack surrendered without hesitation, reciprocating with all the passion and desire he felt for the remarkable young man.

"I'm happy, too," Dylan whispered when they finally broke apart, looking at Jack intently, as if he was also afraid of saying the words aloud.

Feeling a swell of intense emotion, Jack cradled Dylan's face in his hand, tracing his thumb gently over the defined cheekbone. Then he pulled Dylan close against his chest, burying his face in the younger man's hair.

It was a few minutes later when Dylan interrupted the silence, his hand stroking lazy patterns over Jack's abdomen. "You know, you've never told me how old you are."

"You've never asked," Jack countered lightly, amused by the unexpected non sequitur.

"I'm asking now," Dylan murmured. "But it's all right if you don't want to tell me."

"No, I don't mind," Jack replied. "I'm thirty-six... thirty-seven next year."

If Dylan was surprised, he didn't show it. "When's your birthday?"

Jack had to pause for a moment. Even though he'd memorised all the particulars of his new identity, he wasn't used to casually supplying them yet. "Um... March twenty-seventh," he finally answered, wondering not for the first time if there was any significance to that particular date that he was no longer aware of. "How about you?"

"I'm twenty-six," Dylan replied. "My birthday's August nineteenth."

"Wow, ten years younger." Jack chuckled, giving Dylan a playful squeeze. "You're just a baby."

Dylan snorted. "Hardly."

"Does our age difference bother you?" Jack asked, feeling a stab of anxiety. While Dylan hadn't given any indication that it did, it wasn't something they'd discussed. He tried hard not to think about the fact that he was actually old enough to be Dylan's great-great-great-grandfather. That just made him feel like a dirty old man.

"Nope." Dylan lifted his head, giving Jack an impish grin. "It's kind of nice, actually. I get the benefit of all your extra years of experience. Besides, ten years isn't that much."

"No, I suppose not," Jack agreed, wishing it really was only ten years and not closer to one-hundred and fifty.

The unwelcome thought that Dylan would be better off with someone his own age and who lacked Jack's mountain of emotional baggage tugged at his consciousness. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Dylan if he was sure this was what he wanted, if he understood the inevitable complications and limitations of being in a same-sex relationship, even in the twenty-first century. But he swallowed down the words, firmly pushing away the unpleasant thoughts. Despite his youthful appearance, Dylan was mature and level-headed, seeming wise beyond his years, and continued to show little reticence about them being together. As strange and inexplicable as it still seemed, they somehow just slotted together, and Jack didn't feel they were unequal in any way that actually seemed to matter.

Dylan lifted himself up and straddled Jack's hips, pressing his bare crotch against Jack's. "In fact, I think you should demonstrate some more of that experience of yours right now."

Jack responded with an appreciative groan, and for the rest of the evening no further words were necessary.

###

They were back at their regular coffee shop in London three days later, and with their coffees and Jack's obligatory jam donut consumed, they were making their way to the door, discussing their plans for the afternoon. Dylan had become quite taken with French Impressionism during their trip to Paris, and he wanted to visit the National Gallery to see some of the works on display there.

An attractive, dark-skinned young woman dressed in professional attire was entering the coffee shop, and Jack moved aside to let her pass.

He was surprised when the woman stopped in front of them and looked at him with wide eyes. She broke into an enormous smile and threw herself into his arms. "Jack! It's so good to see you."

Jack froze, his stomach dropping with the unfamiliar woman's use of his former name. He turned anxiously towards Dylan, who was standing at his side and looking between him and the woman with a confused frown.

The woman turned her attention to Dylan, still beaming widely. "Oh, and you must be Ianto! You're even more handsome than Jack described." She looked back towards Jack with a curious expression. "What are the two of you doing in London, Jack? Business or pleasure? You should have called to let me know you were coming to visit."

Ignoring the unfamiliar woman, Jack looked at Dylan in bewilderment, his panic momentarily forgotten. "Who the hell is Ianto?"

Dylan was staring back at him, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes filled with alarm. "James, why did she just call you Jack?"


	54. Chapter 54

******Author's Notes: **My sincerest thanks as always to Prothrombintime. And thank you again to everyone who has supported this story. Angst ahead!

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Four**

_**March 12th, 2008**_

Ianto searched both his desk and the kitchen area thoroughly for a second time, swearing profusely under his breath when his search failed to yield a result. He leaned back against the counter where the coffee machine resided and retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. Dialling the last of the three new mobile phone numbers he'd added to his contact list, he waited impatiently for an answer. "Damn it," he muttered when it finally rang out and diverted to voice mail.

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself back to his feet and made his way to Jack's office. He'd hastily completed everything requiring his attention for the day, and all he'd wanted was to escape from the Hub and get away from Jack. He needed time to think and try to settle his raging thoughts. Of course, as was usually the case, fate – and Torchwood – had conspired against him.

Jack looked up from his desk as Ianto reached the threshold of the office. His expression was wary, his jaw tense, as if he was bracing himself for round two of their earlier, heated confrontation. "What is it, Ianto?" he asked, snapping the words out impatiently.

"My car keys are missing," Ianto replied evenly and without preamble. "John was at my desk earlier looking for a bus timetable. I tried his mobile but I can't get hold of him."

Jack frowned and turned to his computer, tapping at the keyboard insistently. Ianto edged closer and peered over his shoulder, watching as Jack brought up the current location of his car. "He's gone home," Jack murmured as they both stared at the blinking, stationary red dot hovering over a residential street in Grangetown, and Ianto felt a knot of anxiety twist unpleasantly in his stomach.

Jack jumped from his chair, grabbing his keys from the desk as he reached for his greatcoat. Ianto stepped back and out of the way, but made no attempt to assist him. He knew it was a childishly passive aggressive act that was beneath him, but he was still too hurt to particularly care.

Jack gave him a sharp look, then sighed and roughly pulled on his coat. He paused as he reached the doorway, looking back. "Are you okay to get home? I don't know how long I'll be."

"I'm fine, Jack," Ianto replied, his tone more brusque than he'd intended. He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll wait here. Go."

Jack looked at him with a deep frown for a brief, tense moment, then turned away and sprinted from the Hub in a flurry of coattails, every bit the dashing hero, as always. Ianto sighed wearily and scrubbed his hand over his face. He considered making some coffee, then rejected the idea and reached for Jack's best Scotch instead. Pouring a generous amount into one of Jack's cut crystal glasses, he slumped down into Jack's chair and sipped distractedly at the dark liquid, his thoughts beginning to drift.

The light aeroplane 'Sky Gipsy' had come through the Rift four days earlier, bringing with it three people displaced from 1953, the pilot Diane Holmes, and two passengers, Emma Cowell and John Ellis. The team had since been working to integrate the latest victims of the Rift into the present day world, the process, predictably, not being an easy one. The trio had been confused and distraught at the beginning, not believing they'd been transported over fifty years into the future.

Ianto felt a deep sympathy for them, and he'd tried to imagine how he would feel if he was suddenly whisked fifty years forward, losing everything he held dear. Emma, the younger at only eighteen seemed to be adapting the easiest, responding to the modern world with almost childlike wonder. Gwen had been helping her, and from what Ianto could tell, the former detective was doing an excellent job. Tosh and Owen had been helping Diane, and Ianto had noticed that the pilot was more than a little smitten with their technical genius. Toshiko, however, seemed utterly oblivious, her affections never wavering from Owen. Meanwhile, Owen seemed quite amused that his girlfriend had captured another woman's attention. Diane was certainly attractive and only slightly older than the pair, and Ianto suspected that Owen had been entertaining some rather lurid fantasies.

John, being the oldest, was clearly struggling the most out of the three refugees. Jack had befriended the man, and had been trying to help him assimilate into his new reality, encouraging him to build a new life for himself. The man's plight had seemed to resonate deeply with the Captain, and just like Jack, John Ellis was trapped in a time in which he didn't belong. Although Ianto certainly didn't begrudge Jack spending time with John, or anyone else for that matter, Jack had been distant and out of sorts since the Sky Gipsy's arrival. He'd been worried that Jack was starting to withdraw and pull away again, whether he realised he was doing it or not.

However, after the incident several hours earlier, he'd realised that his concern, while justified, had been somewhat misdirected. It had been a trying few days, and he'd been tasked with ferrying the newcomers around and helping them to acclimate with modern day-to-day life, including setting them up with new ID's, advising them on managing money, teaching them to use their new mobile phones, and taking them on a trip to the supermarket, which had severely tested his patience. He didn't mind doing his bit to help, but he'd started to feel more like Torchwood's token errand boy rather than Jack's trusted second-in-command, and Jack apparently had been too pre-occupied to notice his frustration.

After finally having the opportunity to spend a few blissfully quiet and interruption-free hours in the archives, he'd returned upstairs and headed for the coffee machine. The Hub had been deserted except for Jack and John, who had been sitting in Jack's office, talking in quiet, insistent tones. Gwen had taken Emma shopping, while Tosh and Owen had taken Diane to the airfield to check on her plane. He'd prepared three cups of coffee, placed two of them on a tray, then headed silently towards Jack's office. Just as he'd been about to announce his arrival, he'd unintentionally caught a fragment of the conversation between the two men.

"_Who are you?" John asked, his voice becoming wary and suspicious._

"_A man, like you," Jack replied, with a heavy air of defeat. "Out of his time, alone, and scared."_

_John frowned, then looked at Jack intently. "How do you cope?"_

_An unreadable expression passed over Jack's face, hardening his features. "It's just bearable. It has to be. I don't have a choice."_

Reeling as if he been punched viciously in the stomach, Ianto had almost dropped the tray he'd been carrying, only barely recovering at the last possible moment.

The clatter had alerted the two men to his presence, and Jack had looked up sharply, his features immediately taking on a distressed expression, a response to the pained look that Ianto knew must have been written all over his face.

Not wanting to confront Jack in front of John, he'd made a hasty retreat back to the archives, ignoring Jack as he called after him. John already had a low enough opinion of him, having walked in on them in the kitchen the day before. Jack had been agitated, and in an impulsive moment, Ianto had pulled him into his arms and kissed him tenderly. He'd turned to find John Ellis staring at them, his mouth hanging open, looking visibly shocked and disgusted.

Jack had eventually found him in the depths of the archives an hour later, and a regrettable encounter had predictably ensued. Ianto pressed his eyes closed, his mind betraying him as it replayed the memory in painful detail.

"_Ianto, there you are. Listen, about what you heard earlier..."_

_Ianto spun around to face him. "Whatever feeble excuse you have, Jack, I don't want to hear it."_

"_Please, Ianto, I didn't mean what I said to sound the way it did." Jack reached forward to grasp Ianto's shoulder, but Ianto stepped back. "It's not what you think. You need to understand that I..."_

"_Yes, well... clearly I don't understand," Ianto retorted coldly, more hurt than he was willing to admit. "I thought you were happy with me. I was misguided enough to think I was actually making a difference. I thought I did more than make your life 'just bearable'." He narrowed his eyes. "And you're not alone, Jack. I'm right here in case you hadn't noticed."_

"_I know, and you do make a difference, Ianto," Jack said insistently. "More than you'll ever know."_

_Ianto snorted with undisguised contempt. "But not enough. That's the problem, isn't it? I can never be enough for you. I give you everything, Jack. You have all of me. But it will never be enough."_

"_It's not a question of not being enough," Jack argued, anger seeping into his voice. "We've talked about this before. You don't understand what it's like for me. You can't."_

"_And that's my fault, is it?" Ianto demanded furiously. "How can I understand, Jack? How can anyone?"_

"_Ianto..."_

"_Just leave me alone." Ianto turned away, tears prickling at his eyes. He was damned if he'd let Jack see him in such a pitiable condition. "Go back to your new best friend and leave me the hell alone."_

_He hadn't turned around again until the sound of Jack's retreating footsteps had finally faded._

He tossed back a mouthful of the Scotch, once more blinking away the tears that were threatening to fall. He'd let his hurt and anger get the better of him, and he regretted his harsh words. He knew how deeply Jack suffered, but to hear Jack say what he'd said, and to a virtual stranger, had felt like a knife to his heart. He wondered if he'd deluded himself all this time about his significance in Jack's life. Perhaps, no matter how hard he tried, he could never be enough for someone like Jack. Maybe no one could, at least not in the long run.

It had been six months since he and Jack had reconciled their differences and resumed their relationship. He'd finally returned to work a month later, confined to light duties initially, but as he continued his physical therapy he'd regained his mobility, and by Christmas he'd almost fully recovered. The nightmares still flared up on occasion, but Jack was almost always there to sooth away the worst of his distress.

Christmas and the New Year had come and gone without any major crises. He and Jack had divided their time between the apartment and the Hub, allowing the others to have some time off. They'd occupied themselves with films, games, and sex, indulging in some festive cheer with some nice food and wine. Jack had finally gotten his wish of seeing Ianto get impressively drunk, and he'd teased him mercilessly afterwards, telling him in great detail how affectionate and effusive he'd become while intoxicated. Ianto had subsequently vowed never to get drunk in Jack's presence again. Although, he had to admit that Jack's hangover cures were rather innovative, even bordering on the avant-garde.

Downing the rest of his drink, he stood up and retrieved his diary from his desk, then returned to Jack's office. He studied the screen for a moment, noting the SUV was now at the same location as his car, the two dots blinking side-by-side on the map overlay. Hoping Jack had reached John in time, he extracted his pen from his jacket and turned his attention to his diary.

It was over two hours later when the blinking dot representing the SUV began to move again, indicating its return to the Hub. He immediately feared the worst as the tracker on his own car remained stationary. He may not have particularly liked John Ellis, but he didn't wish the man harm. With a sigh, he closed his diary and distractedly pushed it aside, mentally trying to prepare himself for Jack's return.

It was only a short while later when the cogwheel door rolled open and Jack appeared, making his way with slow, weary footsteps across the Hub and to the office. Standing in the doorway, his features were ashen, his eyes dull, and the acrid smell of carbon monoxide filled the air.

Without thinking, Ianto stood up and stepped forward, removing Jack's coat and tossing it over the nearest chair before pulling Jack into a tight embrace. Jack was tense and unresponsive in his arms. "John's dead," he murmured hoarsely. "I held his hand as I watched him die."

Awkwardly, Ianto pulled away, shaking his head sadly as Jack remained standing before him, looking lost and defeated. "I'm sorry about your car," he said after a moment, his stony expression becoming apologetic. "I'll buy you a new one. Anything you want."

"I don't care about my bloody car, Jack," Ianto retorted in frustration, stepping away and moving to the other side of the room. He was incensed that Jack thought he could just buy himself back into his good graces. "You died with him, didn't you?" he asked sharply, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," Jack replied quietly. "I couldn't let him do it alone."

Ianto turned away and closed his eyes. Jack had died too many times in the line of duty recently, and the old fear that one day Jack might not come back had never left him, despite the Doctor's explanation that Jack was a fixed point in time and would exist forever. He hated that Jack was so cavalier about dying, almost seeming to welcome the escape, no matter how fleeting it was. He wondered if Jack still secretly hoped that one of his deaths would finally stick. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

"So, that's four times in barely a week," he murmured, his voice sounding distant and devoid of emotion. "Must be a new record." He turned and looked at Jack, his heart feeling tight and heavy in his chest. "You envy him, don't you? You wish you could have gone with him."

He only just managed to stop himself from bitterly adding, 'And you'd leave me behind without a moment's hesitation.' It was a selfish thought and one he wasn't particularly proud of, but it hurt to think that Jack might abandon him if given half a chance. After all, he'd tried to do that not so long ago.

Jack sighed heavily. "Ianto, please, can we not do this right now."

Ianto watched as Jack moved over to the desk and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He downed it in one go, then refilled the glass. Ianto stifled a weary sigh. "Do you want help with John's body?" he finally asked, straightening his shoulders and adopting his professional demeanour.

Jack shook his head and swallowed half the contents of his refill. "No, I'll take care of it. You should go home, get some rest." He emptied the glass and put it down on the desk. "Do you mind taking a taxi?" he asked, not meeting Ianto's eyes as he slumped down into his chair.

"I'll walk." Ianto quickly made his way to the door, relieved that Jack didn't want him to stay. They were both too emotionally raw and needed some space from one another. He paused indecisively at the threshold. "Will I see you later?" he asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he heard Jack reply, after a moment of heavy silence. "Yeah, you will. Don't wait up for me though."

###

It was a little after three in the morning when Ianto heard Jack enter the apartment. He'd been dozing restlessly since he'd finally climbed into bed just after midnight, and when he'd woken again half an hour earlier, the other side of the bed had still been empty. He'd turned onto his back and remained lying in the darkness, lost in his thoughts as he stared up at the ceiling.

He listened to Jack's unusually quiet movements as he used the bathroom, entered the bedroom, and slowly undressed. When Jack's shadowy form was standing by the side of the bed, clad only in his underwear, Ianto finally shifted his gaze to look at him. He pulled the bed covers back and Jack slipped in beside him.

Neither of them spoke, nor did they make any attempt to touch one another. Finally, Ianto broke the uncomfortable silence. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jack replied in little more than a choked whisper. "At least I will be. Not like I have a choice."

Not sure what else to say, Ianto leaned in and gave Jack's lips a soft but chaste kiss. As hurt as he was, he knew Jack was suffering too, but it was as much comfort as he was willing to offer. "I'm sorry about John," he murmured.

He began to turn away, but Jack caught hold of his arm. Ianto turned back, peering at Jack's face in the darkness, only a couple of inches from his own.

"You're wrong, Ianto." Jack's voice was soft but insistent. "About not being enough for me. You've always been enough. You've always been everything I ever wanted."

Ianto nodded silently in reply, not trusting himself to speak. He turned onto his side, facing away from Jack, and closed his eyes. Jack pressed up against the length of his back, wrapping an arm around his waist, his lips brushing a gentle kiss against the nape of Ianto's neck.

For the first time in the years since he and Jack had begun their strange and unconventional relationship, Ianto wasn't sure if he actually believed the other man's words.

###

Ianto woke the following morning and was unsurprised to find that Jack had already left. Rubbing at his eyes, he cursed softly as he glanced at his bedside clock and found it was almost nine o'clock. Jack had obviously taken it upon himself to turn off the alarm. He snatched the folded note from where it was propped up on the table, his name written on the front in Jack's familiar, florid scrawl.

_Ianto, I didn't want to wake you. Take the day off and get some rest. I'll organise a rental car for you today until we can buy you a new one. J._

With a heavy sigh, Ianto dragged himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Although he suspected Jack's apparent thoughtfulness was a less than subtle attempt to give them both some distance, he wasn't going to just mope around the apartment all day. Besides, Myfanwy had seemed a bit lethargic for the last couple of days and he wanted to check on her. Owen had told him he was imagining things, but he couldn't help but worry.

He was making his way along Mermaid Quay forty-five minutes later, sipping distractedly from the travel mug he'd filled with coffee, the bag of jam donuts he'd just purchased clutched in his other hand. He hoped the pastries would help to mitigate Jack's annoyance from his unwelcome appearance at the Hub.

At the periphery of his vision a tall figure was sprinting across the Plass, coattails flaring dramatically in his wake. Ianto stared dumbstruck, his heart clenching in his chest as he spotted the familiar blue police box standing at the furthest end of the Plass. Jack was running frantically towards it.

"Oh, my God," he muttered, dropping both his coffee and the bag of donuts, and taking off in pursuit. "Jack!" he shouted. "JACK!"

Jack was evidently too far away to hear him. Ianto watched helplessly as Jack reached the TARDIS and threw himself at the exterior, clinging to the sides as a deep groan reverberated through the air and the time machine faded out of existence.

Ianto came to a halt, gasping for breath as he stared at the section of stone paving the TARDIS had occupied only moments earlier, a cold sense of despair washing over him.

Jack was gone.


	55. Chapter 55

******Author's Notes: **Thanks as always to the brilliant and gracious Prothrombintime for invaluable help and feedback with this chapter. Angst ahead!

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Five**

_**October 5th, 2008**_

Jack stood at the edge of the Plass and watched as the TARDIS dematerialised, the familiar laboured groan of the time machine's engines reverberating through the air until it faded into nothingness. He looked around at the achingly familiar surroundings, untouched and unchanged since he'd last seen them, and took a steadying deep breath of the fresh, cool sea air. A lot had changed since that fateful day when he'd sprinted frantically towards the TARDIS while shouting the Doctor's name, and he hadn't been sure if he'd ever see any of this again. Even now, he was almost scared to blink or close his eyes in case it was all an illusion fabricated by his traumatised psyche.

It was approaching early evening, the fading daylight giving way to the kaleidoscope of lighting decorating the Plass and the surrounding areas of Cardiff Bay. Shifting his eyes from the shimmering cascade of the water tower, Jack watched as people went about their lives, oblivious to the year of untold devastation and horror that had been erased from the time-line. Only a small handful of people knew the truth of just how close the world had come to total annihilation, and it would undoubtedly haunt each and every one of them for a long time to come, himself included.

After a year of relentless pain, imprisoned and dragged back from the oblivion of death more times than he could bear to think about, while the human race was decimated and the Earth burned beneath him, he was finally home again. He was back where he belonged, and everything was going to be okay. More than okay, he hoped. He'd survived the unthinkable and had been given a gift that would change everything; a gift he hoped would allow him to be truly free at last. For the first time in well over a century, he could dare to dream of an entirely new life for himself. He just needed to find the courage to seize what was so tantalisingly within his reach.

With a final lingering glance, he turned and headed towards the entrance to the Hub, taking long measured strides as his farewell with the Doctor moments earlier echoed in his thoughts.

"_I really don't mind though," the Doctor said, looking at Jack with an expression that might have almost passed for affection. "Come with me."_

Not so long ago, he would have been elated to hear those words, jumping at the chance to travel time and space as a companion of the Doctor once again. It had been his dream for so long, the one thing that had made his existence bearable – the hope of finding the Doctor and leaving twenty-first century Earth behind. But dreams had a tendency to change when one least expected it, and travelling with the Doctor no longer held the appeal it had once done. He was a different man now, as was the Doctor, and that brief period of carefree happiness he'd shared with Rose and the Doctor's previous incarnation couldn't be reclaimed. His infatuation with the enigmatic Time Lord had faded, while the residual hurt and bitterness of the Doctor's abandonment of him continued to linger, an open wound that had yet to heal. He doubted he'd ever completely forgive the Doctor, and although he didn't consider himself to be a man who held a grudge, some things were just too difficult to let go.

Still, the offer had been a welcome change from the uncomfortable way the Doctor had regarded him when they'd first been reunited. The Time Lord's cutting words had taunted him for that entire missing year, hurting him more deeply than he ever could have thought possible.

"_It's not easy just looking at you, Jack, 'cause you're wrong."_

Those few scant words had dredged up and reaffirmed every loathsome thing he'd ever thought about himself; that he was a monster, a freak, a travesty of nature... that no one who knew the truth about him could look at him with anything other than revulsion and disgust, let alone love. Except, as impossible as it had seemed, one person had. Knowing that he'd somehow managed to earn the love of one singularly remarkable man had made the Doctor's scathing pronouncement bearable.

"_You're not wrong, Jack."_

Four simple words uttered quietly in Welsh-accented tones as they'd stood on a rooftop and admired a spectacular sunrise, imbued with unshakeable determination and conviction. Those words and his vivid memories of the unassuming young man who had spoken them had kept him sane.

_Jack shook his head."Thanks, Doctor. But there's someone very special waiting for me. At least I hope he is." He paused and gave the Doctor a small, wistful smile. "A few years ago I would have jumped at the chance to travel the universe again. It's funny how things change, but this is where I belong now. This is my home. With him. For the rest of my life if he'll have me."_

"_Ah, yes. That formidable young man of yours." A flicker of wry amusement passed over the Doctor's face and he grinned broadly at Jack. "He really is quite remarkable. Brilliant, in fact." His grin softened into something gentler and more genuine. "I'm happy for you, Jack. I really am." He nodded in the general direction of the Hub. "Go on then, don't keep your Mr. Jones waiting. And say hello to him for me."_

"_I will," Jack replied. He turned to Martha and hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he pulled away. "Thank you," he whispered to her._

_Martha smiled at him warmly. "Bye, Jack. And don't be a stranger, yeah? Next time you're both in London, I'll be expecting a visit."_

_Jack nodded, returning her smile. Stepping away, he turned his attention back to the Doctor. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, Doctor," he said, swallowing against the tightening of his throat. He wondered if he'd ever see the Time Lord again, but the realisation that he might not didn't bother him nearly as much he'd expected._

"_Goodbye, Jack. And good luck." The Doctor looked at him curiously. "If you ever change your mind... if the two of you feel like a bit of an adventure..."_

_Martha rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of the Doctor's arm, pulling him towards the TARDIS. "That's the last thing any of us need," she muttered, shaking her head._

"_Maybe one day," Jack replied with a soft chuckle. "But not right now."_

Jack had given the Doctor a jaunty salute, and he'd watched as the pair retreated inside the TARDIS, the door closing behind them.

It had been just over a year ago in his personal time-line, the day after John Ellis had chosen to kill himself, when Jack had frantically flung himself at the TARDIS just as it began to dematerialise. He'd been standing on the rooftop of the Millennium Centre that morning, lost in a his troubled thoughts when his wrist-strap had alerted him to the TARDIS's arrival. Clinging to the exterior, he'd been whisked, unprotected, into the Time Vortex, and had somehow managed to hold on as the TARDIS tried to shake him off. His only thought had been to plead with the Doctor to find a way to fix him. He'd been desperate for an end to his curse of immortality, but leaving Earth behind and being dragged through time and space to Gods only knew where hadn't been what he'd had in mind. Like the Doctor himself, the sentient ship had been repulsed by Jack's 'wrongness', and the vessel had taken them all the way to the end of the universe, to the year one hundred trillion, as it attempted to get rid of him.

That single event had set in motion a cataclysmic chain reaction that not even the Doctor could have predicted. Jack had died when the TARDIS had finally rematerialised, his body ravaged by the trip through the Vortex. When he'd revived, he'd met the latest version of the Doctor, the same one who had been at Canary Wharf nine months earlier, along with his latest companion, a beautiful dark-skinned young woman by the name of Martha Jones. Martha was a trained medical doctor, and as they'd quickly developed an easy rapport, Jack had found that he liked her very much.

In a colony of the last vestiges of the human race, they'd discovered that an insane Time Lord known as the Master had somehow escaped from the Time War. He'd hidden himself in human form at the end of the universe, the trio's interactions with him unwittingly triggering the return of his true identity. Stealing the TARDIS, he'd travelled back to twenty-first century Earth and initiated an elaborate plan to conquer the universe, with the Doctor, Jack and Martha in pursuit after the Doctor had managed to repair Jack's Vortex Manipulator. Jack and the Doctor had been captured and imprisoned aboard the flying aircraft carrier, Valiant, while the Master and his cybernetic monstrosities systematically decimated the planet and enslaved the human race.

The Master had almost succeeded, but in the end, the Doctor and Martha Jones had been victorious, and the Master had perished. Time had been reset, erasing the year of the Master's invasion from history, and only the survivors on board the Valiant had retained their memories and trauma from that terrible year – the year that never was.

Hanging from shackles in the bowels of the ship, Jack had endured the full brunt of the Master's twisted, sadistic nature, the insane Time Lord delighting in finding inventive ways to torture, kill and degrade his new pet. Jack had developed an extremely high tolerance to pain over the course of his long life, but he still had his limits, and eventually his mind had folded in on itself in a desperate act of self-preservation, unable to handle the agonising deaths and excruciating resurrections that inevitably followed. To his relief, the Master had eventually seemed to lose interest, apparently realising that no matter how many times he broke Jack's body, he'd never break his mind.

Jack had held on as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, clinging to the hope that the Doctor's plan would work, that Martha would save them all. It was his memories of Ianto Jones that had given him the strength and comfort he'd needed to endure the interminable suffering.

He'd fallen hard for the captivating young Welshman almost from the moment they'd met. Ianto had challenged him from the very beginning, determinedly making his mark and quietly working his way into Jack's good graces, despite Jack's initial efforts to send the man scurrying back to London. Seduced by sinfully delicious coffee, melodious Welsh vowels and gorgeous tailored suits, Jack had soon found himself enthralled by the beautiful, brilliant and enigmatic man, despite not trusting him and being suspicious of his motives. He'd recognised the danger signs early on, and he'd fought against the intensity of his attraction to the alluring Welshman. But Ianto's stubborn determination had prevailed, and as Jack had grown accustomed to the young man's presence, relying on him more and more, he'd finally given in to his affections and they'd become tentative friends. It had been a long time since he'd had a real friend, and Ianto's undemanding companionship became a source of genuine comfort. Jack had started to feel not quite so alone.

A disastrous expedition to the Brecon Beacons had led to Ianto learning the truth about Jack's condition, and the Welshman had deeply impressed Jack with his resilience and bravery. Ianto had risked his life to save him, and when he'd learnt about Jack's inability to remain dead, instead of being repulsed, he'd shown nothing but empathy and compassion. Ianto had proven himself to be a loyal and steadfast colleague and friend, and Jack's lingering distrust of the younger man had finally faded.

Then a feisty pterodactyl had fallen through the Rift, and everything had changed. They'd clung to each other on the dirty floor of an abandoned warehouse, both hopped up on adrenaline as they'd stared into the depths of each other's eyes. Then, to Jack's astonishment, Ianto Jones had kissed him. That first kiss had been unforgettable, and he'd been startled by the sheer intensity of passion Ianto had unleashed in that moment. Jack's world had turned upside down, the carefully constructed walls around his heart crumbling beyond all recognition, and he'd been left with a desperate, burning desire to experience so much more.

He'd tried to keep things casual at first, mostly for his own sake, but also for Ianto's, not wanting the younger man to get too attached. The sex was incredible and their physical connection was one of the most intense Jack had ever experienced. After uncovering the passionate and deeply sensual man hidden beneath that calm, stoic exterior, Jack hadn't been able to get enough. To his delight, Ianto had been eager and willing. They had fun together, and they enjoyed each other's company. He hadn't wanted to ruin a good thing by letting emotional complications get in the way.

Then they'd been forced to sacrifice Tommy Brockless, devastating them both with guilt and grief, and Jack hadn't been able to deny the depth of his feelings for Ianto any longer. Things became more serious and it wasn't long before he'd realised that Ianto shared his feelings. That realisation had filled him with a mixture of elation and despair, a part of him wanting to cling to Ianto and never let him go, while another part had wanted to push him far away, where he could be safe and live a normal life.

He'd almost lost Ianto when John Hart showed up and wreaked havoc on their lives, and he'd stopped at nothing to get Ianto back. He'd been determined not to take the limited time they had together for granted any longer, and for a while he'd succeeded. But losing Estelle had been a brutal reminder of the pain he'd suffer when Ianto was eventually taken from him. Grieving for the woman he'd loved but been forced to abandon, and tormented by the despair of knowing he'd lose Ianto too, he'd begun to distance himself emotionally. Finally, when he'd come to realise just how much Ianto was sacrificing to be with him, he'd foolishly tried to push the younger man away. Then Canary Wharf had happened, Torchwood One had fallen, the world had almost been overrun by Daleks and Cybermen, and Ianto had almost died yet again.

He regretted the way he'd left things with Ianto, not having the chance to leave even a note or message before he'd ran frantically for the TARDIS. He knew he'd hurt Ianto badly when the younger man had overheard his thoughtless words to John Ellis in a moment of weakness and self-pity. He deeply regretted all the times he'd held back and kept Ianto at a distance due to his fear of losing him, but he was determined to do whatever was necessary to make up for his past mistakes. With the shadow of immortality no longer hanging over them, he could finally try to be worthy of Ianto Jones.

Seeking solace in his thoughts of Ianto as he'd hung in shackles, he'd realised the four years he'd had with the Welshman had been the happiest of his long life, despite the heartache they'd endured as their relationship deepened. But their time together hadn't been enough, and he'd meant what he'd said to the Doctor. He intended to spend the rest of his mortal life with the man he loved.

He quickened his pace, and before he knew it, he was sprinting towards the Hub with every ounce of strength he possessed. He needed to see Ianto's handsome, expressive face, to pull him into his arms and feel the comfort of his firm, warm embrace, to kiss him fiercely until they were both trembling and gasping for breath. He needed to apologise and tell Ianto that everything would be different now. He needed to tell him that finally they had a chance for a normal life together.

Fuelled by a combination of desperate yearning and excited anticipation, Jack continued to run, pushing his newly mortal body to its limit. He'd literally endured a year of hell, but he'd survived, the world was safe once more, and as long as he had Ianto, everything was going to be okay.

The cogwheel door rolled back, and he strode into the Hub's interior. He hadn't exactly expected a warm welcome, and he knew he had some serious apologising to do, but he hadn't expected to find the Hub empty and silent either. Although the lights were on and the familiar soft background hum of the Hub's infrastructure reached his ears, there was something desolate and foreboding about the cavernous space. It hadn't been since before Ianto's arrival on his doorstep five years earlier that it had felt so inhospitable and unwelcoming. A spike of panic shuddered through him. Something was definitely wrong.

He'd only taken a couple more steps when the sound of clatter from the kitchen area drew his attention. He looked up to find Toshiko staring at him with an expression of wide-eyed shock. "Jack! Oh, my God, you're back."

Tosh put the mug she was carrying down on the nearest surface and rushed towards him. With relief washing over him, Jack produced a wide smile and climbed the steps to the main work level, pulling the petite Japanese woman into a firm embrace.

"Toshiko, oh, it's good to see you. How are you?" Releasing his grip and stepping back, it was only then that Jack noticed the tired, haggard appearance of Toshiko's features. "Where are the others?" he asked urgently. "Where's Ianto? Is he here? I need to see to him."

"Jack..." Tosh's eyes were suddenly glistening and filled with intense sadness.

Jack's momentarily sense of relief vanished. "Tosh, what's going on?" he demanded, fear slicing through him. "Where's Ianto?"

"There's no easy way to tell you this..." Tosh paused and swallowed, clearly struggling to maintain her composure. "Jack... Ianto's gone."


	56. Chapter 56

******Author's Notes: **A word of warning that tissues/handkerchiefs may be required for this chapter. Angst and character death ahead...

Sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for graciously providing feedback and advice on this chapter. And thank you also to blackcat1000 who generously took the time to re-read the story and highlight my typos and grammatical errors. I've updated all the affected chapters, so for anyone reading for the first time or re-reading previous chapters, hopefully they're now error free.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Six**

_**October 5th, 2008 (continued)**_

Jack stared dumbstruck at Tosh for a long moment, his mind refusing to process what he'd just heard.

"Gone?" he finally managed to ask, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean? Where is he?" A terrible, unimaginable thought suddenly filled his mind. "He's okay, isn't he? He's not..." He trailed off, unable to articulate the unthinkable.

Tosh's eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically. "No, Ianto's okay, well, at least he was the last time I saw him. Physically, he was okay." She sighed heavily. "Where were you, Jack?" she asked, her tone uncharacteristically accusatory. "You've been gone for over six months. We didn't know anything, except that you'd run off with the Doctor. We started to think we'd never see you again."

"It's a long story," Jack replied evasively, unable to hide the impatience from his voice.

It would take too long to explain everything that had happened during his time away, even if he had wanted to, which he absolutely did not. He wasn't going to attempt to defend his actions, and no one needed to know what he'd seen and endured. It was better if they didn't. Except for Ianto. He'd tell Ianto whatever he wanted to know, no matter how difficult and painful it was to put into words.

The TARDIS had been heavily damaged by the Master, and combined with the fragile state of the time-line after history had been reset, it hadn't been easy for them to get back to present-day Earth after they'd left the Valiant. They'd spent several weeks inside the Time Vortex, giving both the ship and its passengers time to recover from their ordeals. Even then, it had taken a great deal of coaxing on the Doctor's part to get the sentient ship to return them to even within the same year as when they'd left. Impatient and anxious, and desperate to get back to Ianto, Jack had wanted to use his Vortex Manipulator to return home. However, the Doctor had forbade him, even going so far as to disable the device's teleportation and time travel functions again. Jack hadn't been happy about that, and he's been more than a little hurt by the Doctor's apparent lack of trust in him, but the Time Lord had been adamant.

"I came back as soon as I could," he added with conviction, holding Toshiko's searching gaze. "All that matters if I'm back... I'm back where I belong." He looked at her beseechingly. "Please, Tosh. I need to know where Ianto is. I need to see him. I need to make things right."

Tosh stared up at him, looking conflicted as she appeared to be weighing up her options. Jack knew her hesitation was due to her sense of loyalty to Ianto. He couldn't blame her for that, not when she and Ianto were close friends, almost like brother and sister. From her point of view, Jack had run off on a whim, abandoning the entire team and forsaking the man he'd claimed to love.

Finally, she seemed to reach a decision and gestured towards the Hub's well-worn sofa. "You'd better sit down, Jack."

Jack was tempted to argue, but something about Toshiko's unusually measured, dispassionate tone stopped him. Struggling to keep his escalating distress reigned in, he nodded uneasily.

He tugged off his greatcoat and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair, then sat down. He'd found the replacement coat in one of the TARDIS's wardrobes, and while it wasn't quite in the same style as he usually wore, it was similar enough that it had helped him to feel more like his old self again. He glanced towards his office and noted that his original greatcoat was hanging there on the coat rack; it was the coat he'd been wearing when he'd died alongside John Ellis in Ianto's car. Thankfully, he'd been wearing one of the spare coats Ianto had procured for him when he'd chased after the TARDIS. That particular coat had been ruined beyond all recognition after his first couple of deaths at the Master's hands.

Tosh slowly sat down beside him, clenching her hands tightly in her lap. "Gwen and Owen are investigating some alien tech we've been trying to trace. We just got a lead that it's turned up in Swansea. They probably won't be back for a couple of hours."

Jack nodded distractedly. "They're both all right?"

"They're fine," Tosh replied. "The Rift has been going through one of its more active periods lately and the three of us are exhausted, but all things considered, we're doing okay."

She paused and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze lowering to her hands. "Jack, Ianto left three weeks ago. He announced that he'd decided to leave Torchwood and the next day, he was gone. He said he was also leaving Cardiff." She looked up into his eyes. "I don't know where he is. He could have gone anywhere. I'm sorry, Jack. I really am."

Jack pressed his eyes closed, the full weight of Tosh's revelation gripping coldly around his heart. Six months was a long time to wait, and the timing of his unplanned departure had certainly been far from ideal, but he hadn't truly considered the possibility that Ianto wouldn't wait for him. It had been too unthinkable, even though Ianto had no way of knowing if he'd ever return. From Ianto's point of view, Jack had abandoned him. It was the one thing Jack had promised the younger man he'd never do, and whether intentional or not, the end result was the same, and no less devastating.

"_That's the problem, isn't it? I can never be enough for you. I give you everything, Jack. You have all of me. But it will never be enough."_

The Welshman's emotional outburst just before Jack had left echoed heavily from the depths of his mind, every nuance of the barely restrained hurt and anger in those words recalled with painful clarity. Ianto had been wrong, but in all fairness Jack couldn't blame him for feeling that way. He'd given the younger man reason enough to have doubts, and no matter how much it hurt, he couldn't blame Ianto for deciding it was time to cut his losses and move on. It seemed the cruel hand of fate, combined with an overindulgent dose of self-absorption and carelessness on Jack's part, had cost him the most precious thing he'd ever had.

Overcome with guilt and regret, it took several moments before he realised Tosh had begun to speak again. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, not wanting to see the condemnation in his colleague's tired, sad features.

"He was heartbroken when you left," Tosh continued softly. "He tried to hide it, but I could see how much he was hurting. We all could. He took charge though, and he kept everything running as smoothly as ever. You would have been proud of him."

"I've always been proud of him," Jack murmured wistfully. "He never once let me down." He only wished he could say the same about himself.

"He told me you'd had a fight just before you left," Tosh added, speaking more tentatively. "For the first few months, he was adamant you'd come back, that you wouldn't abandon us. But I'm not sure if he believed that himself. As time went on, I think he began to give up hope. He became so quiet and withdrawn, and he never smiled anymore. He spent a lot of time with Myfanwy. Well, more than usual. I'd often find him tucked away in a corner of the Hub, quietly talking to her. I think she helped him to feel close to you."

Jack nodded mutely. He remembered all the times he'd done the same when Ianto had been in cryo-freeze. As strange as it had seemed, spending time with their pterodactyl had been a source of comfort, a way of feeling connected to the other man. It was finding Myfanwy that had brought them together, and she'd always held a special place in their hearts. His throat constricted as he imagined how lonely and betrayed Ianto must have felt. He knew all too well how devastating it was to be left behind. He knew exactly how those feelings of worthlessness stayed with a person and tainted their soul.

Tosh took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. "Shortly after you left, we noticed that Myfanwy was less active than she used to be. Ianto was really worried about her. He convinced Owen to run some tests, but he couldn't find anything conclusive, and he's not exactly an expert on pterosaur physiology. In the end, he put it down to her body slowing down as she got older. He suspected that prolonged exposure to the twenty-first century had taken a toll as well."

She paused and wiped at a tear as it trailed down her cheek. Reaching for Jack's hand, she wrapped it in both of her own, causing Jack to look at her with alarm. "Jack, Myfanwy died a month ago. Owen and I came in one morning and we found Ianto in her nest, clinging to her and crying his heart out." Tosh blinked as another tear escaped from the corner of her eye. "She died in his arms."

All Jack could do was stare at Tosh in horror, his mind reeling. "Oh, Gods, no," he muttered, in barely a whisper.

"The following night, I found Ianto in your office," Tosh continued, blinking again as tears filled her eyes. "He was sitting on the floor behind your desk. He had his face buried in your coat, crying quietly to himself. It broke my heart. I knew then that he couldn't go on like that, being here day after day where everything reminded him of what he'd lost."

She squeezed his hand before slowly releasing it, then wiped at her eyes again. "Two days later we were dealing with a pair of Weevils in Bute park. One of them went for Ianto. He seemed like he was in a daze, and he barely tried to fight it off. I think a part of him didn't want to. If Owen hadn't got there in time..." She trailed off, shuddering visibly. "When Ianto told us he was leaving a few days after that, it didn't really surprise me. Gwen was angry with him, she told him that he couldn't abandon us. Owen tried to shrug it off, but he's really upset that Ianto's gone. Ianto was like a younger brother to him, and Owen's always been so protective of him. Deep down though, I think he understands why Ianto had to leave. As for me... well, I didn't try to stop him. I couldn't. Not when I could see how much pain he was in. And not when we didn't think you were going to come back."

Jack wiped roughly at his eyes, guilt and grief threatening to overwhelm him. "He needed me and I wasn't here," he whispered, his voice catching.

"Yes," Tosh agreed, but not unkindly. "We tried to do what we could, but he'd become so withdrawn, he wouldn't let us help."

"I have to find him, Tosh," Jack said resolutely, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat and attempting to contain his spiralling despair. He'd failed Ianto, but he could at least try to make up for his mistakes. They'd been through too much together to give up now.

He began to stand up, ignoring the shakiness of his legs. "I have to fix this. I need to make things right. Tosh, I'm going to need your help."

Tosh placed a hand on his arm to halt his movement. "Jack, wait. There's something else."

Jack froze, not sure if he could handle anything else. "What is it?" he asked anxiously, easing back down onto the edge of the sofa and turning to face her again.

"It was two days after Ianto left." Tosh took a long, tremulous breath. "Owen discovered that some retcon was missing. Not the usual short-term doses we normally use, but the long-term formula. There were enough tablets missing to erase five years worth of memories. Ianto must have taken them, there's no other explanation. I checked through the CCTV footage for the few days just before Ianto told us he was leaving. There were a large number of gaps. He must have erased it to cover his tracks."

A cold, desolate numbness settled over Jack as he felt all the hopes he'd had for building a new life with Ianto slip from his reach. "So, that's it, then," he murmured, staring down at his tightly clenched hands, the words sounding detached and dispassionate to his ears. "I've lost him."

He realised what a fool he'd been to jeopardise what they'd had in a moment of reckless impulsiveness. He may have regained the gift of mortality, but in doing so he'd paid the ultimate price. He'd lost Ianto just as he was finally in a position to try to give the younger man the life he deserved. He might have even appreciated the sense of tragic irony if he wasn't so completely devastated.

"We'll find him, Jack." Tosh suddenly looked fiercely determined. "I promised him that we wouldn't try to contact him, but now you're back, everything's different. Whatever it takes, we'll find him. Maybe he decided not to take the retcon. Even if he did, we can help him to get his memories back..."

Jack shook his head emphatically. As much as he wanted to get Ianto back, he couldn't be that selfish. There was a time when he might have done whatever was necessary to get what he wanted, but he liked to think he'd become a better person over the course of his unnaturally long life. Ianto was brilliant, young, handsome and resilient. Now that Ianto was free of Torchwood, he could start over and build whatever new life for himself that he wanted, unshackled by the encumbrances of the past.

"No. Ianto's made his choice," he said firmly, somehow managing to imbue the words with more conviction than he felt. "We need to respect that. I want you to honour your promise to him."

He slumped against the back of the sofa and stared out across the Hub. He now understood why it felt so inhospitable and lifeless. He couldn't comprehend that everything he'd endured had all been for nothing. Once again, he was lost and alone.

"But, Jack..." Tosh began to argue. "He loves you. If he knew you were back... if he still remembers..."

As Tosh trailed off uncertainly, Jack suspected they were both thinking the same thing. Once Ianto had decided on a course of action, his stubborn determination would ensure he'd see it through to the end. "He's got a chance for a normal life now," he said, the words coming out in little more than a choked whisper. "It's what I always wanted for him. I won't try to take that away." He let out a mirthless, wry laugh. "Looks like I got my wish, huh?"

He glanced back at Tosh, and she looked like she was about to argue further. But then her determined expression faded to one of resignation, and she simply nodded. "What will you do now?" she asked hesitantly, after neither of them had spoken for a minute or so. "Will you stay?"

Jack shrugged. "Maybe Ianto had the right idea. Forget the past... start a new life..." He waved his hand vaguely in front of him. "Leave all this behind." He sighed wearily, feeling broken, defeated, and utterly bereft. "I've worked for Torchwood for over a century. I think... I think I'm done."

He decided not to tell Tosh about his newly mortal status. It didn't seem important, not when every hope he'd had for a future with Ianto was lying in ruins. "Will the three of you be okay?" he asked instead.

To Toshiko's credit, she didn't try to dissuade him. "Ianto left us a list of potential candidates from UNIT. We've got two of them arriving next week for a trial period. Gwen interviewed them."

Jack nodded. Not that long ago, he would have balked at the mere suggestion of bringing UNIT personnel into Torchwood Three, but too much had changed and he couldn't expect the remaining three members of his team to manage on their own. They needed to hold onto some semblance of a life outside of Torchwood, and to do that, they'd need help.

"With the three of you in charge, this place is in good hands." He reached for Tosh's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then he stood up and slowly pulled on his coat. "I need you to do me a favour. Don't tell the others I'm back. I need some time before I decide what I'm going to do. I'll be in touch in a few days."

Rising to her feet, Tosh nodded in reply. "All right. But let me know if I can do anything."

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Jack, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I wish things had turned out differently."

"Me too," Jack murmured, holding onto her for just a moment. He pulled back and kissed her softly on the forehead. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, he smiled down at her sadly. "Me too," he repeated.

Then he turned away and left the Hub behind.


	57. Chapter 57

******Author's Notes: **More angst here I'm afraid and tissues/handkerchiefs may be required again. Sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for invaluable feedback and encouragement. We're nearly at the end now - only three more chapters to go after this one...

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Seven**

_**October 14th, 2008**_

It was nine days later when Jack arrived in London, disembarking from the train with his meagre possessions slung over his shoulder. Keeping his head down as he moved through the crowded station, he headed for a nearby hotel. He wasn't expecting to stay in London for long, but he'd needed to get away from Cardiff. It was too painful to stay there, where everything evoked bittersweet memories and reminded him of how much he'd lost. He'd needed to escape.

After his farewells with the Doctor and Martha, he'd thought he was going home. For the first time since the Doctor had abandoned him far off in the distant future, he'd actually felt like he had somewhere he truly belonged... more importantly, someone he belonged to... someone who accepted and loved him, despite his many gaping flaws, chequered past and tortured soul. But home wasn't merely a place, it was being with the man who owned his heart, the one person who was now beyond his reach. Once again, he didn't belong anywhere, and London was nothing more than a convenient pit stop. Here in the vast, sprawling city, he was just one more lonely person adrift in a sea of lost souls.

After leaving the Hub on the night of his return, he'd gone to their former apartment. He'd known it was a monumentally bad idea, but he'd needed to see it one final time. It had been the one place where he could relinquish the weight of his responsibilities, a place where he didn't have to be anyone or anything; a tiny haven from the darkness and myriad dangers of his daily life. With regret he'd realised that he had never thanked Ianto for that priceless gift. It had been Ianto's presence that had transformed the previously unwelcoming space into something special and precious. He'd never told the younger man how much it had meant to him to have that small slice of normality.

Finding the space empty and devoid of possessions had intensified his already overwhelming feelings of guilt and loss. Although the furniture remained, Ianto had left no other trace of himself behind. The handful of Jack's clothes at one end of the wardrobe and the small collection of his toiletries in the bathroom were the only evidence of the apartment having once been a home. He'd carefully retrieved the bespoke suit he'd worn for their first official date, reverently stroking the fine wool fabric as he'd recalled that amazing evening they'd shared. It was one of his favourite memories of their time together. He'd just got Ianto back and as he'd admired the stunning Welshman sitting across from him in the restaurant, blue eyes alight with humour and affection, Jack had felt like the luckiest man alive.

With thick tears streaming down his face, he'd crawled onto their bed and clung to the pillow that had once belonged to his lover. He'd tried to detect some infinitesimal residue of Ianto's unique scent, desperately aching for a tangible reminder of the younger man. Ianto had often joked about his inability to resist the allure of Jack's pheromones, but the younger man's own complex scent, while not as potent, was no less intoxicating.

Retrieving the worn leather journal from the inside pocket of his coat, he'd clutched it tightly against his chest. He'd found the diary on his desk the morning the TARDIS had appeared on the Plass, and he'd slipped it into his pocket, intending to return it to the younger man later that day. The diary was important to Ianto, and he'd known the Welshman would fret if he couldn't find it. Then the TARDIS had arrived, and in his frantic rush to reach the ship before it vanished again, he'd forgotten all about it. That innocuous leather-bound diary had journeyed with him to the end of the universe, and he'd later entrusted it to Martha Jones to keep safe. She hadn't disappointed him, and after walking the Earth for a year as she spread the Doctor's message, she'd returned the diary to him intact, albeit less pristine than it had once been.

Eventually he'd cried himself into a restless sleep. When a vivid nightmare had dragged him violently back to wakefulness, his trembling hands had reached reflexively for the warm, comforting body he'd known so well. The pain of finding only cold, empty space instead had made the horrors dredged up by his subconscious seem inconsequential in comparison.

He'd roamed the streets of Cardiff in the days that followed, dressed inconspicuously in casual clothes, and keeping his distance from the Hub. But everywhere he went, he'd found himself searching the faces of tall, dark-haired young men, even though he'd known the man he was searching for was already long gone. Every time he caught a glimpse of an attractive young man in a tailored suit, his heart ached with inconsolable pain.

Despite himself, he'd returned to the apartment each night, wandering aimlessly between the rooms as his memories continued to haunt him. When his recurrent nightmares refused him a reprieve from his anguished, guilt-ridden thoughts, he'd stood on the building's rooftop and stared up at the stars. But gazing to the heavens didn't provide the solace it once had, and he no longer yearned for distant worlds, excitement, adventure, and the thrill of new experiences. His needs had become far more fundamental, his yearning more specific and quantifiable. With a sense of tragic irony, he'd realised that what he'd been waiting for all those interminably long years hadn't been what he'd wanted at all.

Whenever he now looked up to the stars, his thoughts were instead consumed by an extraordinary and unassuming man. The man he loved was in some distant place, alone and confused, with no memory of Jack or their time together. With regret tearing at his shattered soul, Jack had bitterly imagined what might have been... of how for the first time, he'd almost had the hope of genuine, long-lasting happiness so tantalisingly within his grasp.

It had been late at night, a week after his return, when he'd finally gone back to the Hub. His wrist-strap hadn't recorded any Rift activity and he'd watched from the shadows as Tosh, Owen and Gwen had departed for the day. He'd entered via the invisible lift, using his wrist-strap to loop the CCTV feeds and temporarily disable the Hub's internal sensors so his presence would remain undetected.

The vast underground base that had once been his sanctuary had continued to feel oppressive and lifeless, serving only to heighten his sense of despair. He'd slowly made his way to the empty space that had been Myfanwy's nest, his eyes burning with tears as he'd imagined Ianto cradling the lifeless form of the creature they'd both adored in his arms. Pressing his eyes closed in a futile attempt to suppress the painful image, he'd turned away, clenching his fists as a fresh wave of self-loathing overtook him.

Once he'd managed to regain his composure, he'd determinedly set to work, creating a new identity for himself along with the necessary supporting documentation. Securing the documents in a worn satchel, he'd gathered up some clothing and possessions from his bunker, shoving them hastily into a battered rucksack. With a lingering look at the greatcoat hanging in his former office, he'd hung his temporary replacement next to it, saying a silent goodbye to the identity he'd inhabited for the past one-hundred and forty years. After a brief stop at the medical bay, he'd hastily exited the Hub for the final time.

He'd met Tosh and Owen at their flat the following morning, hugging them both and wishing them well. Owen had railed against him at first, needing an outlet for his hurt and anger, but then he'd become uncharacteristically subdued, and just as Jack had turned to leave, the medic had pulled him into a fierce embrace. Jack had hated saying goodbye to the two people he'd grown to love and regard not only as valued colleagues but as close friends, but he knew they'd be fine without him. Over time, the four of them had become an odd little family, and he regretted having to leave the remaining half of their close-knit team. He'd decided not to contact Gwen, knowing she'd only berate him for leaving and try to convince him to stay. Nothing she could have said would have changed his mind anyway. The former detective was the only member of the team who didn't know the truth about him, and she could never begin to comprehend the sacrifices he'd made during his long tenure with the clandestine organisation.

He'd stood on the rooftop of the Millennium Centre one last time, gazing out over the city he'd helped to protect for over one hundred years. Broken-hearted, but resigned to find a new life for himself, he'd boarded the next train to London, certain he'd never set foot in Cardiff again.

Sitting in the chair of his hotel room that evening, Jack finished narrating a succinct set of facts and instructions. He reached for his wrist-strap, manipulating the controls to turn off the holographic recording, placing the device, along with the note he'd written earlier, onto the bedside table.

He retrieved the battered metal tin containing his photographs from his bag, then carefully opened it and extracted the top-most image. Sitting on the bed, he stared down at the photograph for a long time, tracing his fingertip over Ianto's handsome, smiling features. He had his arms around the younger man, holding him close, and he was grinning at the camera, his expression one of undisputed happiness. They'd been celebrating Ianto's twenty-fourth birthday, and Tosh had insisted on taking some photographs to commemorate the occasion. This particular image of that carefree, unguarded moment had been his favourite. He'd slipped the photograph into his tin the following day, trying not to think about a time when it would be all he had left of Ianto Jones. That day had arrived far sooner than he'd hoped.

The only other loose end had been Ianto's diary. He couldn't keep it, but he couldn't bring himself to destroy it either. He'd considered giving it to Tosh for safekeeping, but instead he'd decided to entrust it to Martha Jones once more. He'd posted it to her London address before leaving Cardiff, with a brief note attached, asking her to keep it safe. He knew the journal would never find its way back into the hands of its owner, but he'd felt a little better knowing it still existed in the world.

With a heavy heart, he placed the tin back in his bag, then walked into the bathroom and extracted a matchbook from his trouser pocket. Lighting a match, he hesitated before igniting a corner of the photograph. Blinking back his tears, he dropped it into the basin and watched as the tendrils of flame quickly engulfed the image, destroying his final link to Ianto and his old life. Wiping roughly at his eyes, he washed the ashes away, ensuring no trace remained. Wherever Ianto was now, he just hoped the Welshman was safe and would eventually find the happiness he deserved.

He looked up and gazed at his reflection in the mirror, staring into dull, lifeless eyes. He'd barely eaten since his return, and with insomnia taking its toll on his mortal body, his features were gaunt and drawn. He looked like hell, not that it seemed to matter anymore.

But destroying that final, tenuous link had strengthened his resolve. He'd learned to live with a long list of regrets accumulated over his unnaturally prolonged life, but losing Ianto was the one regret he couldn't bear to add to that list. He couldn't spend the rest of his days searching nameless faces everywhere he went, pointlessly hoping to find a man who no longer knew who he was. He couldn't salvage the ruins of his life while the memories of what he'd endured aboard the Valiant plagued his waking and unconscious thoughts. He'd suffered enough for ten lifetimes, and the trauma was too much to cope with on his own.

Half-filling a glass with water, he returned to the bedroom and scooped up the five retcon tablets he'd left on the table into the palm of his hand. Not giving himself time to second-guess his decision, he tossed the tablets into his mouth, chasing them down with a hasty gulp of water.

He quickly undressed, haphazardly arranging his clothes over the nearby chair, then flicked off the light, slipped under the bed covers, and closed his eyes. He could already feel the sedative beginning to take effect as his thoughts began to grow hazy and indistinct.

Taking a slow, deep breath as his limbs grew heavy and his consciousness started to drift, the image of the beautiful, smiling face of the man he loved filled his mind. A single word escaped his lips in a whisper, before the darkness claimed him.

"Ianto..."


	58. Chapter 58

******Author's Notes: **Thanks again to everyone who so kindly reviewed the previous chapter. And sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for unwavering encouragement and support.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Eight**

_**November 11th, 2008**_

Jack stared at Dylan as his mind twisted with confusion, neither of them answering the questions they'd just asked each other. The young woman they'd just met clearly knew him by his former identity, and she seemed to know who Dylan was too, although she'd called him by a different name. He'd never heard the name 'Ianto' before, although he immediately liked it, and it seemed to suit the young Welshman.

Frowning suspiciously, Jack began to wonder if this was all some kind of elaborate con. Perhaps Dylan had been playing him all along, although for what purpose he couldn't begin to imagine. His heart sank with the thought that everything they'd shared had been a lie, and in hindsight, he realised he should have known better. It had all seemed just a little too good to be true, but he'd wanted it so damn badly that he'd let his new found happiness overrule his instinctively distrustful nature. As loath as he was to admit it, he'd foolishly let his heart rule his head. Regardless, it seemed that a part of his past had caught up with him, and a piece of the puzzle that was his missing five years was about to be revealed, whether he wanted it to be or not.

Dylan stared back at him, a perplexed frown marring his youthful features. The panicked glint in his wide eyes suggested he was at least considering the option of bolting from the coffee shop.

"Jack? What on Earth's going on?" the unfamiliar woman asked.

Before Jack could respond, Dylan cleared his throat nervously. He gestured towards the table they'd just vacated at the rear of the shop. "Er... perhaps we should sit down?"

Quickly glancing around, Jack realised they were attracting unwanted attention from the handful of people nearby. He nodded and gestured for Dylan and the young woman to precede him. "Jack?" the woman repeated, looking at him warily.

"I'm not sure what's going on here, but we'll try to figure it out." Jack tried to produce a genuine and reassuring smile. "How about I get up us some coffees? What would you like?"

Absently noting the woman's reply, he stole another glance at Dylan, who was looking back and forth between the two of them with what was unmistakeably suspicion in his eyes. Mentally shaking himself, Jack moved over to the counter and ordered another round of coffees for Dylan and himself, and a latte for the young woman.

He watched as the pair made their way over to the table, the woman watching him closely, while Dylan continued to look anxious and unsettled. That was a feeling Jack could wholly relate to. Clearly the younger man had some rather large secrets of his own, and Jack had the terrible feeling that the unexpected happiness they'd found together was about to come crashing down in spectacular fashion. They'd become so comfortable with each other, it was easy to forget that they were still strangers in many ways, neither of them knowing anything particularly substantial about their respective pasts.

After waiting impatiently for their beverages to be prepared, he thanked the barista when they were finally ready, then carried the drinks over to the table and sat down beside the Welshman.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" the woman asked, taking her drink as Jack passed it across the table.

"I'm sorry, but no, I don't," Jack replied honestly. "Obviously you know who I am though."

The woman nodded. "We met just over a year ago." She glanced at Dylan, a hesitant, uncertain expression passing briefly over her features. "At least it was that long for you and me. I'm Martha Jones. I travelled with the Doctor until recently. That's how we met."

"The Doctor?" Dylan asked sharply, before Jack could say anything. "You know the Doctor?" He raised his eyebrows at Jack. "You both do?"

Martha nodded in reply. "And apparently, so do you," Jack interjected dryly, startled by Dylan's revelation.

"Only by reputation," Dylan replied, reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

Martha was looking at Dylan curiously. "Just now, Jack called you 'Dylan'. So, you're not Ianto Jones... Jack's boyfriend?"

The shocked look on Dylan's face would have been almost comical if not for Jack's escalating confusion. He watched as Dylan swallowed visibly.

"My real name's Ianto Jones," the younger man eventually replied, glancing nervously at Jack. "That's who I was until seven weeks ago. But I only met James here a bit over three weeks ago." A deep frown creased his forehead. "His name's James Huntley. At least, I thought it was."

Jack sighed heavily, knowing there was no point in denying the truth any longer. "Actually, my name's Jack Harkness."

A flicker of recognition immediately appeared in Dylan's blue eyes, and they widened as he looked at Jack incredulously. "Captain Jack Harkness? The man who runs Torchwood Three in Cardiff? That's you?"

Jack stared at Dylan in astonishment. "How the hell do you know about Torchwood?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice low and avoid unwanted attention.

Dylan gaped at Jack, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing several times. Finally he let out a choked laugh. "So, these last three weeks, I've been shagging Jack Harkness." He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

The stab of hurt Jack felt must have been apparent in his features, because Dylan immediately looked contrite. He began to reach for Jack's hand, but then seemed to think better of it and slid it back towards the cup of coffee in front of him. His gaze shifted briefly to Martha before settling on Jack again. "Sorry, I didn't mean... er... just a bit of a shock, that's all." He shrugged meekly. "You... well, you have somewhat of a reputation."

Jack didn't want to think about whatever Dylan might have heard about him, although he suspected it was at least partly based in fact. He'd never particularly tried to hide his voracious sexual appetite unless it was out of necessity, although he'd eventually learned to be more discrete. But whatever Dylan had heard about his past escapades seemed to be the least of their problems at the moment.

"I used to work for Torchwood One," Dylan continued, answering Jack's question. "Then I was reassigned to Torchwood Three. That's all I remember. Given what Martha just said, I'm assuming I worked for you... and we became... involved." He waved his hand awkwardly between the two of them. "I suppose that explains this thing between us. We've done it all before, just that we don't remember it."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. As astonishing and improbable as it all was, it was beginning to make a strange kind of sense. If nothing else, it explained the intense connection they shared and how their relationship had progressed so rapidly. Except one thing was still a mystery, but just as he began to open his mouth to ask his next question, Martha pre-empted him.

"So, the two of you have some sort of long-term amnesia?" she asked, gazing at them appraisingly. "You've both assumed different identities and you don't remember anything about each other before three weeks ago?"

"Retcon," Jack and Dylan both replied simultaneously, then stared at each other with shell-shocked expressions.

"How long?" Jack asked the other man, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Five years," Dylan replied, scrubbing a hand over his face in obvious consternation. "The last memories I have are of my first six months at Torchwood One in 2003. The five years since then are blank. All I know is that I moved back to Cardiff and transferred to Three. Then five years later, I left Torchwood Three and moved back to London." He looked at Jack intently. "Then I met you. How... um, how long for you?"

"Same. Five years." Jack shook his head in disbelief, breathing out a low whistle. "Wow."

"Hold on. What's retcon?" Martha asked, looking at them both with a confused expression.

"It's an amnesia pill developed by Torchwood," Jack replied, struggling to regain his composure. "We've been using it for decades. It's used to suppress short-term memories when people see things they're not meant to see." He glanced at Dylan, who was staring down at his coffee, looking every bit as dazed and confused as Jack himself. "In extreme cases, it can be used to erase longer periods of time," he finished.

Martha stared at him with wide, questioning eyes. "So, you take a pill, go to sleep, then wake up and your memories have been erased?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

"But that's insane," Martha protested, looking aghast. "Not to mention dangerous. What about neurological damage? Messing around with the human brain like that is asking for trouble. There could be all kinds of psychological repercussions. I'm a medical doctor. I have some idea what I'm talking about here."

Jack shrugged mildly. "It's been refined over the years. I'm not saying it's perfect, but most of the time it works pretty well. Besides, you've got two healthy specimens right here in front of you to prove it."

Martha shook her head in what was clearly disapproval. She sipped his coffee, her expression turning thoughtful. "Right, so the two of you decided to erase your memories of the last five years. But why? What happened? The last time I saw you, Jack, you were desperate to get back to Ianto. You were excited to be back home again. You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him."

Dylan looked up sharply at Jack, his expression one of utter astonishment. "You said that?"

All Jack could do was shrug his shoulders in response. He was still reeling from the revelation that he and Dylan had not only known each other previously, but had also worked together at Torchwood and been in a relationship. Try as he might to search his mind for answers, everything remained infuriatingly out of reach. Since all the time he'd spent with Dylan over the last several weeks hadn't jolted any memories back to the surface, it seemed highly unlikely that anything would at this point.

"I suppose I must have," he replied, not knowing what else to say. He turned his attention back towards their female companion. "Martha, I need you to tell us everything you know. It might help to make some sense out of all of this."

Martha nodded, taking another sip of her coffee and glancing around the shop. "It might be a good idea if we go somewhere more private. We can go back to my flat if you like? It's not too far from here."

Looking at Dylan, she added, "Oh, I almost forgot. Ianto, I've got your diary. It arrived in the mail a few weeks ago." She looked back at Jack with a curious expression. "Jack, you must have sent it to me just before you erased your memories."

Jack frowned, thinking it was a strange thing for him to have done. But it seemed that he'd trusted Martha, and he supposed it made sense. If he'd had Dylan's diary in his possession, he couldn't have kept it if he was planning to erase his memories of the man in question. He could imagine not wanting to destroy something as precious as the private thoughts of a friend and lover.

He distractedly took a sip of his coffee as he tried to process what he'd just discovered. Clearly, his past self and Dylan, aka Ianto, had been in a serious relationship if he'd talked about wanting them to spend their lives together. The obvious conclusion was that his former self had been in love with the Welshman, despite his resolve to avoid emotional attachments and the pain they inevitably caused. It was an astonishing revelation, but given the intensity of his feelings for the younger man, it wasn't difficult to believe he'd fallen hard once before.

"How did you get hold of my diary?" Dylan asked, his voice pitched dangerously low as he glared at Jack.

Pulled from his ruminations, Jack rolled his eyes. "Retcon, remember? I have no idea how I got hold of it."

"Right. Sorry." Dylan sighed and shook his head in obvious self-admonishment.

"I haven't read any of it, I promise," Martha interjected. "I can't vouch for Jack though."

Dylan nodded, giving Martha a small, wan smile. He then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Jack.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Jack protested, holding up his hands in prostration. "I don't know, okay? I could tell you I've never so much as opened it, but we both know that might be an outright lie. Kind of a moot point though, since even if I have seen some of it, I can't remember anything I might have read."

"I suppose," Dylan muttered grudgingly. "Can I have it back?" he asked, turning his attention towards Martha again.

"Of course," Martha replied. She quickly drank the remainder of her coffee and stood up. "Come on. Let's see if we can figure out this mess the two of you have gotten yourselves into."

Jack tried to give Dylan a reassuring smile as they rose to their feet. The younger man, however, was looking deeply perturbed and seemed unwilling to meet his gaze for more than the briefest of moments.

"It's going to be okay," Jack said softly as they followed Martha out of the shop, trying to impart the words with more conviction than he felt. "We're going to sort all this out."

Dylan gave him a small nod in reply, but his eyes were wary, and he was keeping a small but conspicuous amount of distance between them. Despite his words, Jack wasn't sure that anything was going to be okay at all.

###

The taxi ride to Martha's flat was awkward and mostly silent, with neither of them seeming to know what to say to one another. Martha attempted to engage them in conversation several times, but it was obvious that she was also struggling with the bizarre situation the two men had suddenly found themselves in.

Jack was lost in his tangled thoughts as he stared out at the bustling city. With more than a little bitterness, he pondered why fate had once again delivered a cruel and unexpected blow. His stomach twisted with dread as he tried to imagine how Dylan would react to learning the truth about him. There seemed to be no avoiding that now, and he genuinely feared losing the younger man who meant so much to him.

They arrived at Martha's modest but neatly furnished flat, and once they were ensconced on her sofa with mugs of hot tea in hand, she began to recount what she knew of Jack's recent past.

Jack listened carefully as Martha described how he'd grabbed hold of the TARDIS in Cardiff almost eight months ago, and then been whisked to the end of the universe. The Doctor had returned him to Cardiff in early October, almost seven months after he'd left. Nine days later he'd retconned himself, waking up alone in a London hotel room with no memories of the previous five years. Martha was evasive about what had happened during the time they'd both been with the Doctor, but she said that an entire year had passed and it had been subsequently erased from history, with only a handful of people retaining their memories of that time. Jack and the Doctor had been imprisoned by an insane Time Lord, and both of them had suffered horribly at the hands of the sadistic psychopath. Jack wasn't sure how much of that year he'd want to remember, and it didn't take much imagination to contemplate what a twisted madman would do upon discovering his previous affliction. A cold shudder coursed over his body, and when Martha wasn't forthcoming on the details, he decided it would be wise not to press her further for the time being.

He was surprised when he felt Dylan's fingers intertwine with his own, and when he turned to the other man, he found worried blue eyes staring into his, and a concerned face that was noticeably paler than usual.

He squeezed Dylan's hand and gave him a grateful smile. Martha concluded the tale with their arrival in Cardiff, reiterating that Jack had been intent on getting back home to Ianto. Martha added that she'd decided to end her travels with the Doctor and he'd brought her home to London after they'd returned Jack to Cardiff. She hadn't had any contact with Jack or the Doctor since.

"It was September twenty-first when I took the retcon," Dylan said slowly. His brow furrowed with a confused frown as he looked at Jack with troubled, searching eyes. "I'd already left Cardiff when you came back. Why didn't I wait for you? Why did I decide to retcon myself?"

"I don't know," Jack replied. Not knowing the status of their relationship when he'd left, there were just too many possibilities. "But I was gone for a long time. Maybe you thought I wasn't coming back? Maybe something else happened that made you decide to leave?"

"Maybe," Dylan agreed, but he didn't look particularly convinced. "There's just too much we don't know."

Jack could only nod in agreement, and Dylan looked at him curiously. "Do you know why you left? Obviously you wanted to see the Doctor. But if we were together..." He trailed off and lowered his gaze, leaving the unspoken question of why Jack had apparently left him behind hanging in the air.

Jack glanced over at Martha, who was watching them and looking concerned. He wanted to ask her about how the Doctor had fixed him, but there were things he needed to tell Dylan first. "Martha, do you mind giving us a few minutes?"

He stole a nervous glance at Dylan, steeling himself for the uncomfortable conversation. As much as he feared the outcome, they were in this together, and he couldn't hide himself from the younger man any longer. There was an unpleasant gnawing in his stomach and he had the horrible feeling that it was his actions which had landed them in this situation. Whether intentional or not, he'd run off with the Doctor, apparently leaving Dylan behind in the process. Knowing he could be thoughtless and impulsive at times, it didn't seem much of a stretch to conclude that he was ultimately responsible for Dylan leaving Torchwood and retconning himself. He knew all too well how devastating it was to feel abandoned and forsaken. It also seemed to explain his own motives for taking retcon. He'd returned home with a year's worth of extensive psychological trauma, only to discover he'd lost the man he loved and had wanted to build a future with.

"No problem," Martha replied, standing up. "Jack, I think I should call the Doctor. He might be able to help to get your memories back."

Jack was about to agree when he felt Dylan stiffen beside him. "Is that okay?" he asked, turning to the younger man and finding anxiety clouding his features.

"Do you really think he can help?" Dylan asked hesitantly.

"Honestly, I don't know," Jack replied with a slight shrug. "But if anyone can help, it's him. I think it's at least worth a try."

Dylan chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded. "All right."

"You're sure?" Jack asked.

Dylan nodded again. "I'm sure."

"Okay, I'll call him," Martha said, picking up her phone from where she'd put it on the coffee table earlier. She moved down the small hallway and into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Jack squeezed Dylan's hand once more, then released it and sighed heavily. "Dylan, there's some things I need to tell you."

As succinctly as possible, Jack told the younger man the basic details of where and when he'd been born, how he'd first met the Doctor in 1941 in London during the Blitz, his eventual death and resurrection on Satellite Five in the distant future, and how the Doctor had abandoned him, leading to him being stranded on Earth in 1869. He then added how he'd been forced to work for Torchwood thirty years later and had remained with the organisation ever since.

"I waited for almost a hundred and forty years to find the right version of the Doctor again," he concluded, his voice unsteady as he recalled all those long years of bitterness, fear, and uncertainty. "I needed to find out what happened to me. I needed to know if he could fix what was wrong with me."

Dylan had remained unnervingly quiet during Jack's discourse. He'd merely nodded intermittently, his stoic expression giving little away about what he might have been thinking.

"I don't think I ever intended to abandon you," Jack added, willing the other man to understand. "I'm sure I didn't. But when the Doctor showed up after all that time, that was my chance to get some answers. I'd waited too long to miss that opportunity."

"Do you know if he was able to help you?" Dylan asked quietly, still appearing remarkably composed.

"When I woke up after taking the retcon, I'd left a message for myself on this." Jack tapped his wrist-strap. "I don't know how, but the Doctor fixed me. I'm mortal again."

"I'm glad he was able to help." Dylan's gaze shifted down to the table in front of them. "I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like... all those years... waiting... not knowing... losing everyone you'd ever known or cared about." Finally, he looked up at Jack with sadness and compassion in his eyes. "It must have been very lonely."

"Yeah," Jack replied, his throat becoming uncomfortably tight. "Yeah, it was." He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "So, you're not too freaked out? It's not every day you find out your boyfriend was born on another planet three thousand years in the future, travels through time and space, and is a hundred and seventy-five years old."

"No, I suppose not," Dylan agreed, a tiny wry smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. He rested against the back of the sofa with a sigh. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit freaked out. It's a lot to process."

Unsure what else to say, Jack nodded silently and also settled back into the sofa, causing their shoulders to brush together. Resisting the urge to touch the other man, and unsure how well it would be received, he folded his arms over his chest instead. All things considered, Dylan had taken his disclosures better than he could have hoped, yet he couldn't shake the sickening feeling that nothing would be the same between them again.

They sat that way for several minutes, until Jack finally broke the silence. "I'm not sure whether I should be calling you Dylan or Ianto."

Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "Don't suppose it matters now."

"It matters," Jack said insistently, unfolding his arms and shifting so he could look directly at the other man. "What do you want me to call you?"

Dylan took a deep breath. "Ianto," he replied, lifting his eyes to meet Jack's, but quickly looking down again.

"Ianto it is," Jack agreed. "Ianto," he repeated slowly, savouring the unique name of the equally unique man. "It's a beautiful name. Very Welsh, just like you. Not that I don't like Dylan, but Ianto suits you."

The Welshman looked up at Jack again, but this time he didn't avert his gaze. "So, should I still call you James... or Jack?" he asked cautiously.

"Jack," Jack replied without thinking. He exhaled a sigh and tried to gather his thoughts. "I've been Jack for so long now, nothing else seems to fit. When I woke up and found I had a new identity, I wanted to forget the past, to start over... no reminders of my old life. But some things are just too hard to shake. I've been Jack Harkness for over a hundred and forty years." He paused and gave Ianto a small, sad smile. "Every time you called me James, I wanted you to be saying Jack. I wanted... well, I never wanted to hide myself from you... I wanted you to know who I really was."

"And now I do," Ianto said softly.

"Now you do," Jack agreed.

A loud, wheezing groan suddenly filled the room, causing Ianto to jump to his feet and look around with wide, startled eyes. Recognising the sound, Jack stood more slowly as he saw the achingly familiar sight of a blue police box begin to shimmer into existence in the far corner of the room. Martha re-appeared from the bedroom, a smile spreading slowly across her face.

Standing at Ianto's side, Jack rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "The Doctor will help us," he said firmly. "It's going to be okay," he added, repeating his earlier reassurance, although he suspected it was as much for himself as it was for the man at his side.

Ianto looked at him, the fear in his expressive eyes unmistakeable. "I'm scared, Jack. I'm scared of losing what we have."

Jack wrapped his arm around Ianto's shoulders and pulled him in close against his side. To his great relief, Ianto didn't make any attempt to pull away. "Me too," he admitted, watching anxiously as the TARDIS finally achieved solid form.

He just hoped it wasn't already too late._**  
**_


	59. Chapter 59

******Author's Notes: **Here we go, the penultimate chapter. My sincere thanks as always to Prothrombintime for so very kindly reading this not once but twice, and for providing invaluable feedback and encouragement.

* * *

**Chapte****r Fifty**_**-**_**Nine**

_**November 11th, 2008 (continued)**_

Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the TARDIS, his mind overwhelmed by an onslaught of conflicting emotions. Since he couldn't remember anything about his recent time with the Doctor, it felt like this was the moment he'd been waiting for since arriving on Earth almost one-hundred and forty years ago. Instinctively, he tightened his grip around Ianto's shoulders, taking comfort in the younger man's solid presence against his side.

The door swung inwards and Martha took a step closer. A tall, lanky man with a mop of tussled brown hair and dressed in a blue suit and white trainers suddenly appeared in the doorway, then promptly stepped into Martha's living room.

"Martha Jones," the Doctor said, looking Martha up and down.

"Hello, Doctor," Martha replied evenly, then she held out her arms and the Doctor enveloped her in an enthusiastic hug, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Not that it isn't brilliant to see you," the Doctor began, releasing Martha from his embrace. "But I didn't think we'd be meeting again quite so soon."

"Me neither," Martha agreed. "But it's kind of an emergency."

"Ah, yes." The Doctor's gaze shifted over to where Jack and Ianto were standing. "How are you?" he asked, turning his attention back to Martha.

"Not too bad. You know, trying to get on with things. And you?"

"Oh, you know me." The Doctor gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Always new places to go, people to meet, problems to solve."

He gave Martha a warm smile that seemed just a little too forced, then took a step towards Jack. "Hello, Jack. Wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, either. And you've got your young man with you this time. Good to see you again, Mr. Jones. Keeping Jack out of trouble, I hope?"

"Doctor," Jack said in greeting, somewhat taken aback as he studied this new incarnation of the enigmatic Time Lord.

He couldn't deny that the man was attractive with his rumpled, careless appearance and earnest, enthusiastic charm, but the Doctor's callous abandonment of him had tempered any unrequited feelings he'd once held. While the Doctor's eyes betrayed his otherwise youthful appearance, for all intents, the man standing before Jack was a total stranger.

"Er... we've met before?" Ianto asked, his eyes widening as he stared at the Doctor.

"Oh, yes," the Doctor replied breezily. "Canary Wharf. Daleks and Cybermen trying to take over the world. Lots of running about. You were brilliant, by the way. You gave me quite a dressing down, too."

"Did I?" Ianto asked, frowning heavily, and Jack couldn't help but admire the Welshman's calm demeanour, while his own mind was spinning with every new piece of startling information.

The Doctor waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, I deserved it. You were looking out for Jack here. Can't hold that against you." He stepped closer and studied the two men intently. "But you don't remember any of that do you? So, what have the two of you done to yourselves, eh? Martha mentioned something about self-induced amnesia?"

"Retcon," Jack said succinctly, giving Ianto's shoulder a final squeeze before reluctantly dropping his arm back to his side. "It's a compound developed by Torchwood to erase memories. We both used it. Neither of us can remember anything about the last five years."

The Doctor shook his head, making a disapproving noise. "Torchwood shouldn't have that. You can't just go around taking away people's memories whenever you feel like it."

Jack was about to retort, but Martha interjected. "Doctor, now isn't exactly the best time for an ethical debate. Do you think you can help?"

The Doctor hummed non-committally. "May I?" he asked, reaching up to place his fingers against Jack's temple. "I just want to have a quick peek and try to see how much damage you've done."

Jack nodded tersely. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he felt the pressure of the Doctor's cool fingertips pressing lightly against his skin. There was the disconcerting sensation of another presence entering his mind and slowly moving around, probing at the layers of his psyche. While not painful or overly invasive as such, it was unsettling nonetheless, and Jack had to force himself not to try to repel the Doctor's careful exploration. He opened his eyes again when he felt the Doctor withdraw his hand and break contact.

The Time Lord shifted his attention to Ianto, who immediately took a step back, looking at him warily.

Jack placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder again. "It's okay, Ianto. It doesn't hurt. Just take a deep breath and relax."

Ianto looked back and forward between the two men for a moment, then finally nodded. He stepped forward again, allowing the Doctor to touch his temple. "Just a peek, Ianto," the Doctor said gently. "No need to worry. I won't see anything you don't want me to."

Jack gave Ianto's shoulder a reassuring pat, then watched anxiously as the younger man drew a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes. It was almost a full two minutes later when the Doctor pulled back and Ianto's eyes opened again.

"Doctor?" Martha asked, stepping closer.

The Time Lord pursed his lip and looked lost in thought. "Hmm. Well, the good news is there's no sign of neurological damage. Then, I suppose you already knew that. But I can't reach the missing memories without going deeper. Assuming they're still in there at all."

He trailed his fingers distractedly through hair, sending his dark locks into even further disarray. "The human mind is a funny old thing. You both had reasons for wanting to forget, even though you don't remember what they were. So there's a part of you that wants to keep the memories buried. Subconsciously, you don't want to remember."

Feeling a stab of disappointment, Jack looked at Ianto and could see conflicting emotions written across the younger man's features. They mirrored his own – frustration and disappointment, but amidst it all a rebellious hint of relief. The Doctor was right, a part of them didn't want to remember. "So, there's nothing you can do?" he cautiously asked the Time Lord.

"Well, no, I didn't say that, Jack," the Doctor replied, looking mildly affronted. "I just don't want to get your hopes up. I might be able to help make the memories more accessible. Sort of clear a path so they can come back to the surface of their own accord. But there's no guarantee either of you will get any of them back. Even if you do, it might take time."

Jack nodded as he considered their options, then he turned to Ianto. "I think we need to try. We've come this far. And if it doesn't work, we're no worse off than we are now. But if there's even a small chance we can get back what we've lost, I'd like to at least try." He glanced at Martha who gave him an encouraging nod. "I don't want you to feel like I'm putting you on the spot, but I think it needs to be a joint decision. If you're not sure..."

Ianto shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes. With three people watching him closely, and two of them strangers, Jack realised the younger man was probably feeling quite ill-at-ease. He knew the Welshman well enough to know he didn't like being the centre of attention.

Finally, Ianto looked up again. "No, I agree. We need to try."

The Doctor clapped his hands together and smiled at them both. "Right, then. Follow me. We'll go to the library. It's the perfect spot. Nice and quiet." He began moving towards the TARDIS.

Jack stepped forward and grasped his arm. "Doctor, wait. Before we do this, I need to know... how did you fix me?"

"Oh, you don't remember, do you?" The Doctor frowned, appearing hesitant to continue. "Jack, I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to know about that at the moment."

"Doctor, you need to show him," Martha said firmly.

"Show me what?" Jack asked, looking between the two of them.

The Doctor looked like he was about protest further, but then he breathed out a heavy sigh. "All right. Come on, then. Everyone into the TARDIS."

The Doctor promptly disappeared inside. Martha hesitated and looked at Jack for a moment, but then gave him a smile and followed the Doctor. Jack frowned in confusion, then gestured for Ianto to join them, the younger man looking equally perplexed.

Once they were all standing on the main platform of the ship's cavernous control room, the Doctor turned and looked at Ianto expectantly. Jack smiled and gave the Welshman a gentle nudge. "You're supposed to say it's bigger on the inside."

Ianto, who had been gazing around curiously, rolled his eyes. "Well, it would have to be, wouldn't it?"

The Doctor's face fell, while Jack chuckled, and Martha grinned. Ianto moved closer to the nearest of the large, organically-shaped support beams that encircled the grated platform. Tentatively, he traced his fingers over the coral-like surface. "It... no, she... she's incredible, Doctor." His eyes widened with a look of wonderment. "She's sentient... I can feel her... just at the edge of my mind. She seems... sad... worried."

The Doctor nodded grimly. "The old girl's been through a bit of a rough time lately. But she's doing better now." His expression cleared and he smiled warmly at Ianto. "She's already quite taken with you, Mr. Jones. Don't be too charming though or she might decide not to let you leave."

A look of panic flickered over Ianto's features, and Jack couldn't help smiling affectionately before hastening to reassure him. "He's just kidding, Ianto."

The Doctor strode briskly across to the doorway leading further into the ship. "Right. Come on, then."

The trio followed the Doctor through the labyrinth-like corridors of the TARDIS for what seemed like several miles. Jack grew more anxious as their journey continued, wondering what the Doctor was going to show him, and certain that it wasn't going to be anything good. Finally, they stopped at an innocuous looking door, decorated with the familiar hexagon-shaped recesses that covered most of the ship's interior.

"We're at the centre of the TARDIS," the Doctor explained. "The most protected part of the ship. Just to warn you, Jack... this might be a bit of a shock."

The Doctor pulled open the door and stood back, giving Jack a single nod of his head. Jack cautiously crossed the threshold, Ianto staying close by his side.

Subdued golden light slowly began to illuminate the shadowy space and Jack gasped as he stared at a large glass-fronted cylinder that stretched from floor to ceiling in the centre of the small room. It was reminiscent of stasis chambers he'd seen on his travels before being stranded on Earth, and inside was a man clad only in a pair of plain white shorts, eyes closed, and in some sort of state of cryogenic suspension. The man was an exact replica of himself.

"Oh, my God," Ianto murmured from beside him, while Jack was too stunned to utter even a single word.

The Doctor's voice drifted into the room from the doorway. "It was the only way to help you, Jack. Your DNA was irreversibly fused with the Time Vortex. When you died for the first time on Satellite Five, it was Rose who brought you back. She opened the heart of the TARDIS and absorbed the Time Vortex. She used it to destroy the Daleks, but she also brought you back to life. The problem was she couldn't control it. Rose brought you back forever. She made you a fixed point in time and space."

"We travelled to the future," the Doctor continued, stepping slowly into the room, his hands buried deep inside his pockets. "The seventy-ninth century to be exact, and we used your human DNA to create an exact clone of you. With a little help from the TARDIS and some Time Lord technology, I transferred your memories and consciousness into your new, mortal body. Your former self will remain here in stasis for as long as the TARDIS continues to exist."

Jack ran a trembling hand over his face, then turned to face the Doctor. "Is he... I mean, is he still me? If he woke up, would he..."

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Everything that makes you who you are now resides in your new body. The other one is just a shell. And a good thing, too. One Jack Harkness is more than enough for the universe to cope with." He glanced at Ianto, who was looking understandably stunned. "There was one small adjustment we made though."

"What... um, what was that?" Jack managed to ask.

"Your life expectancy," the Doctor replied. "You wanted to live for only as long as any other twenty-first century human. Except you'll age a little more slowly. About ten-percent slower give or take. You insisted on that so you and Ianto could have a normal lifetime and grow old together. You begged me to help you, Jack. This was the only way I could."

Jack nodded silently. He glanced back at his other self, then found himself staring helplessly at Ianto, too shell-shocked to say or do anything.

"Come on, Jack," Ianto murmured softly, grasping hold of his hand and tugging on it gently. "Let's get you out of here."

"Are you all right, Jack?" Martha asked, looking at them worriedly as they exited the room, the Doctor sealing the door behind them.

"Yeah," Jack replied uneasily, trying to shake off the enormity of this new revelation. "At least, I think I will be. It's kind of a lot to take in."

He clung to Ianto's hand and tried to focus on the younger man's comforting, grounding presence. He felt a slight tingling sensation at the edges of his mind that shifted into a warm, soothing caress, and he realised the TARDIS was trying to comfort him as well.

"Tea!" the Doctor suddenly declared, startling all three of them. "That's what we all need right now. Not much a good cuppa can't fix. And then we'll see about getting those memories back."

###

Jack sipped at his second cup of tea as he watched the Doctor and Ianto. Not being his beverage of choice, he would have preferred something substantially stronger, or even a cup of Ianto's delicious coffee, but the hot, aromatic liquid was a welcome distraction. The worst of his initial shock had eased, and while still deeply unsettled, he was at least feeling a little more coherent and calmer.

They were ensconced in the Doctor's strangely anachronistic library, the dark wood panelling, shelves spilling over with aged leather-bound books, and heavy, well-worn leather furniture reminiscent of a nineteenth century gentleman's club. Soft, recessed lighting and the ship's ever-present background hum enveloped the room in a soothing atmosphere. Jack was mildly surprised that he hadn't seen the room before, but the TARDIS was vast and filled with a seemingly endless number of rooms. He'd probably only explored a small fraction of the interior during his time as a companion.

Martha was sitting in the chair opposite him, sipping quietly at her tea, while Ianto was stretched out on a leather chaise longue, his eyes closed, and the Doctor seated in an armchair at his side. He had both of his hands pressed against the the younger man's temples, and his eyes were also closed, his expression one of intense concentration. Jack knew the Welshman had reservations about succumbing to the Doctor's care, but he seemed to understand that this might be their one and only shot of recovering any of their lost memories.

It was several more minutes before the Doctor was finished, and then Jack was at Ianto's side, stroking the younger man's cheek and looking down at him anxiously. Ianto's eyes slid open and he blinked up at Jack before awkwardly shifting into an upright position.

"How do you feel?" Jack asked gently.

Ianto gave him a small, weary smile. "Okay. Head's a bit fuzzy."

Jack leaned in and kissed his forehead. "Do you remember anything?"

Ianto glanced at the Doctor, then shook his head slowly. "No. At least, not yet. Sorry."

"I've done what I can," the Doctor said, sighing softly and settling back into his chair. "I'm afraid now you'll have to wait and see if anything comes to the surface."

Jack nodded and tried to give Ianto a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Doctor. Guess it's my turn now."

He traded places with Ianto, stretching out on his back and closing his eyes. A moment later, he again felt the Doctor's presence enter his mind.

###

It was almost an hour later when they'd exited the TARDIS and returned to Martha's living room. The Doctor had given Ianto a brief tour of the TARDIS while Jack and Martha had remained in the library, giving Jack a little time to recover from the Doctor's attempt at shaking loose his buried memories. Like Ianto, those lost memories continued to remain frustratingly elusive. Apparently the high doses of retcon they'd both taken had worked a little too well.

Ianto was standing near the TARDIS with the Doctor, the two men talking quietly, the diary Martha had just returned to them clutched tightly in the younger man's hand. Standing at the other side of the room, just inside the kitchen, Jack took the small card Martha handed him.

"Here's my mobile number, Jack. Call me if you or Ianto need anything. Anything at all." She smiled wryly. "We ex-companions need to stick together. And let me know if either of you get any of your memories back, yeah?"

Jack smiled in return. "I will. Thanks, Martha."

Martha looked up at him with worried eyes. "Will the two of you be okay?"

"I hope so, I really do," Jack replied with a sigh. He leaned back against the nearby wall, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. "But, honestly, I don't know. It's a lot for anyone to deal with. Everything was going great before today. I'm terrified I'm going to lose him."

"I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but give it time, Jack. Ianto loves you. And even without your memories, you found each other again and reconnected. That says a lot about what the two of you mean to each other." She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "Besides, you told me he knew all about you before. If he handled it once, he'll be able to handle it again."

Jack nodded, hoping she was right.

###

They entered Ianto's apartment just after six o'clock that evening, having said their farewells to the Doctor and Martha, and then endured an arduous taxi ride in London's peak-hour traffic. After shedding their jackets and shoes, Ianto went into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. Carrying them over to the coffee table, along with his diary, he generously filled both glasses, then settled down onto the sofa as Jack joined him.

"Thanks," Jack said as he gratefully accepted a glass and swallowed down a mouthful of its contents. He slumped against the back of the sofa. "Hell of a day," he muttered.

Huffing out a humourless half-laugh, Ianto tossed back a large portion of his own drink. "Yeah." He stared down at his glass for a long moment, then looked up at Jack. "How... um... how are you holding up?"

"Probably about as well as can be expected under the circumstances," Jack replied with a shrug. "Which is to say, not very well. How about you?"

"Pretty much the same," Ianto replied, turning his attention to his glass again.

A heavy silence settled between them. There were so many things Jack thought he should be trying to say, assurances he should be trying to both give and receive, apologies for not coming clean sooner as he'd realised their relationship wasn't merely a casual, short-lived affair, even heartfelt pleas not to give up on him or the possibility of a future together. But he was too overwhelmed and emotionally raw to express anything he was feeling with even the simplest of words.

Ianto emptied his glass and put it down on the table with a soft clink, then picked up his diary. Jack watched as he studied it closely, slowly tracing his fingertips over the worn leather cover, but making no attempt to open it.

Jack swallowed the remainder of his drink, placing the glass down next to Ianto's. He couldn't deny that he was curious about what the diary might reveal of their past together, but it would be up to Ianto as to if or when he shared any of its contents. "Will you read it?" he asked quietly.

Ianto didn't reply at first, but then he slowly nodded. "Although, there's a part of me that doesn't want to. I know that must sound silly..."

"No, it doesn't," Jack reassured him. "I know how you feel. There's that old saying, 'ignorance is bliss'. I've always thought there's a good deal of truth in that."

Ianto nodded again, looking thoughtful. "Before today... being with you. I never imagined being with someone who... of feeling the way I do when I'm with you. And the fact that you're a bloke didn't matter. It seemed like it should have, but it didn't. Not a bit. I suppose that makes more sense now." His lips curled with a small, self-conscious smile. "I have to admit, I was starting to wonder what I'd gotten up to in those missing five years."

He sighed softly and put the diary down on the table again. "But after today... I'm not sure how we get back to where we were. Or even if we can."

"I'm not sure either," Jack admitted, trying to ignore the sharp surge of pain that seemed to engulf his heart and refuse to let go.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet, feeling like the room was starting to close in on him. "I'll head back to the hotel. Give us both some space."

Ianto stood up too. "Probably for the best," he murmured.

Jack rested his hand on Ianto's shoulder and held it for a moment."Call me if you need anything, all right? If you want to talk, or if you just want some company. I won't be far away."

Ianto nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Jack."

With a final look into the younger man's troubled eyes, Jack turned away and hastily pulled on his shoes and jacket. Slipping silently out of the apartment, he tried not to think about the lonely night ahead. It would be their first night apart since their relationship had started.

He feared it would merely be the first of many more to come.


	60. Chapter 60

******Author's Notes: **Finally, here's the conclusion. My heartfelt thanks once more to Prothrombintime for gracious and unwavering encouragement, support and feedback throughout the writing of this story.

And thank you again to everyone who has read and supported this story along the way. I really do hope it's been an enjoyable and rewarding journey.

* * *

**Chapte****r Sixty**

_**November 16th, 2008**_

Jack was sitting on a bench in the now familiar park, staring distractedly into the distance as he struggled to keep his anxiety from getting the better of him. It was the same bench where he'd first seen Ianto sitting only weeks earlier, looking so utterly lost and alone. It was also the same bench where they'd met for what he'd thought was the first time the following day. His throat grew tight as he remembered that fateful meeting, and he swallowed hard against the sudden rush of emotion.

He'd barely slept or eaten in the four days since he'd last seen Ianto, his mind refusing to settle as he tried to make sense of everything they'd discovered. Finding out he was a clone of his former self had been both shocking and disturbing, and it would take time to come to terms with that, but it wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to him in his long life. It was the price he'd had to pay to be released from the curse of immortality. He was pragmatic enough to accept that it was by far the lesser of two evils.

When he did manage to briefly lapse into unconsciousness, his dreams were consumed with a kaleidoscope of fragmented, shifting images. Just as he'd thought his new life was beginning to make sense, with the possibility of happiness dangled so temptingly within his grasp, he once again found himself adrift in a sea of confusion and uncertainty.

Ignoring the nervous churning in his stomach, he closed his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, he spotted a solitary figure heading slowly towards him. His heart leapt at the sight, and he rose to his feet, forcing himself not to rush forward and grab hold of the other man.

Finally Ianto reached him, coming to a halt and looking at him cautiously. The Welshman looked about as good as Jack felt, his features tired and drawn, and a wariness in his eyes that filled Jack with a cold sense of dread. He wondered if he was imagining a glimmer of distrust in the way Ianto looked at him, as if he was looking at a total stranger. In many ways, Jack supposed he was.

"Thanks for meeting me here, Ianto." Jack gestured at the bench. "Do you want to sit down?"

Ianto nodded and lowered himself onto the bench, near to one end. Jack joined him, sitting close, but trying to keep a respectable amount of distance between them. He hated this sudden awkwardness and tension when they'd previously been so comfortable and relaxed around each other. He couldn't help feeling resentful that the carefree happiness he'd found with Ianto had been so fleeting.

"I was going to call you sooner," Ianto began quietly. "It's just..."

"It's okay," Jack assured him. "You needed time to process everything. I did, too."

Ianto nodded distractedly and fumbled with the small paper bag he was holding. "I bought you some coffee."

He extracted a foam cup from the bag and passed it tentatively to Jack, removing a second cup for himself, then folding the empty bag neatly and putting it on the bench beside him.

"Thanks." Jack popped off the lid and took a small sip. It was from their usual coffee shop and tasted good, but he couldn't help wishing it was Ianto's own inimitable brew. "Mmm. It's good, but not as good as yours."

Ianto just sipped from his own cup, looking into the distance and not meeting Jack's gaze.

"How are you, Ianto?" Jack asked hesitantly.

Ianto frowned. "I'm... confused, I suppose. After these last few days, I'm not sure if I know what's real any more."

"Yeah, I can understand that," Jack agreed with a small sigh. He gestured between the two of them. "But this... us... it's real, Ianto."

"Is it?" Ianto asked sharply, looking at Jack. "Everything we thought we know about each other is a lie, Jack. We've been lying to each other from the moment we met. Well, met for the second time, that is."

Jack couldn't help flinching from the harshness in Ianto's voice. "We've kept our pasts from each other. But everything we've shared since we met right here... none of that was a lie." He looked intently at the younger man. "Not for me."

Ianto sighed and stared down at the cup of coffee in his hands. "You're right. We were both just trying to leave the past behind and start new lives." He shook his head, looking frustrated. "It's all so bloody overwhelming."

Jack nodded, but uncertain of what to say, he remained silent and sipped at his coffee.

"I've missed you," Ianto murmured, breaking the silence a few moments later, his voice so soft that Jack almost missed the words. Nonetheless, he felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest.

"I've missed you, too," he replied, struggling to keep his voice even.

"I've been reading my diary," Ianto continued, after a moment. "I wrote a lot about you... about my feelings for you." He paused and looked up at Jack, uncertainty flickering over his features. "I loved you."

"We loved each other," Jack said firmly, knowing it was the truth.

"Past tense," Ianto murmured, lowering his eyes again.

"I don't want to presume," Jack countered, a little more defensively than he'd intended. When Ianto didn't respond, he sighed and then asked, "Have you remembered anything?"

Ianto shrugged. "Not really. A few images... more feelings than memories. It's just fragments... disjointed... incomplete. I see you in my dreams... I see us together. I know we were happy together... that we were always there for each other. But there was a lot of sadness, too. With the way you used to be, I don't suppose it was ever easy for us." He looked at Jack curiously. "What about you?"

"Yeah, the same," Jack replied. "Mostly fragments. It's all pretty vague. Like you said, more images and feelings than actual memories. I know you made me very happy. I know I loved you, and that my feelings for you terrified me. I know being with me wasn't easy for you. I know I struggled with that... I didn't want you to give up your chance for a normal life to be with me."

"I keep thinking about how terrible it must have been for you all those years," Ianto murmured, compassion filling his eyes and causing Jack's heart to ache. "I can't imagine what it was like. Knowing you'd lose everyone you ever cared about."

"It was unbearable," Jack said, his voice faltering. "The only way I could cope was to keep my distance... not let myself get too attached to anyone."

Ianto nodded. He sipped at his coffee for a minute, his expression pensive. "Do you think we'll ever get our memories back?"

Jack sighed heavily. It was a question he'd been asking himself a lot. "It's impossible to say. The Doctor might have helped nudge things along, kind of like unlocking a door. But retcon can be unpredictable, especially when it's used in such high dosages. Maybe in time we'll get some of it back."

Ianto remained silent and just nodded again in reply.

"I made a call to Cardiff last night," Jack said slowly, causing Ianto to look up at him with a surprised expression. "I spoke to Toshiko Sato, she works for Torchwood Three. She was a member of our team, we recruited her. Anyway, we talked for a while and she helped to fill in some of the gaps. You can talk to her, too, if you like. It might help."

"Toshiko," Ianto murmured. "Tosh." A small smile crept over his lips. "She was a good friend. I remember that."

"She asked about you, wanted to know if you were okay. She was very happy we'd found each other again, she said we were good together. She said she misses us, that it hasn't been the same since we left. And she told me what happened while I was gone." Jack paused and closed his eyes, remorse and guilt rushing over him as he recalled Toshiko's account of the time he'd been away and how much Ianto had suffered. "Toshiko told me about Myfanwy and how devastated you were when she died. That was when you decided to leave."

"Myfanwy," Ianto said softly, his voice catching. "She died in my arms. She was... she was beautiful, Jack." His eyes began to glisten, and Jack longed to take him into his arms and comfort him. "I remember that I took care of her. I wanted to keep her safe... protect her from the world."

"You loved her," Jack said, recalling disjointed images of the prehistoric creature that had come through the Rift and the way Ianto had always doted over her. "And she adored you."

Ianto rubbed roughly at his eyes. "I remember a warehouse. That's where we found her. We were both on the ground and I was kissing you. I think that was our first kiss?"

Jack nodded. "The warehouse... yeah. I've seen it in my dreams. I think you're right." He smiled softly. "If that kiss was anything like our first kiss three weeks ago, it must have been incredible. I bet you turned my world upside down."

A small, wistful smile graced Ianto's lips. "There was a lot of kissing. There were a lot of other things, too." He chuckled slightly. "A lot of sex... a lot of being naked."

"Yeah." Jack chuckled as well. "Well, that definitely sounds like us. Nice to know some things don't change."

They stared at each other for a long moment, both smiling.

Ianto finished drinking his coffee, putting his empty cup on the bench beside him. "Jack, what happened when you came back? Before you came to London?"

Jack swallowed the last mouthful of his own coffee, and Ianto silently took the empty cup from him, putting it inside his own. "Toshiko said I was devastated that you were gone. I decided I had to leave, too. I suppose I couldn't stay there, surrounded by all my memories of you. Plus, I was mortal again. I think I decided it was time to move on."

"We missed each other by only three weeks," Ianto muttered, self-reproach and bitterness in his voice. "If only I'd waited just a little bit longer. I shouldn't have given up on you. All of this, it's my fault."

"Hey, that's not true," Jack assured him, not wanting Ianto to blame himself. Wallowing in their respective guilt and regrets wasn't going to do either of them any good. "I know what it feels like to be abandoned, and you had no way of knowing if I'd ever come back. I don't blame you for leaving, Ianto. And I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you."

He broke off and gazed at some distant passersby as he tried to gather his composure. Taking a slow, steadying breath, he looked at Ianto again. "Fate conspired against us... tore us apart. But fate also brought us back together. We've been given a second chance. I'd like to think that means something."

"That's what the Doctor said... that despite how wildly improbable it was, we managed to find each other again," Ianto said hesitantly. "He said that maybe the universe is trying to tell us something." He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. "So what happens now?"

"Well, the way I see it, we have three options," Jack replied, steeling himself.

Ianto nodded. "All right. Go on."

"Option one," Jack said, trying to keep his voice steady and unemotional, but absolutely certain he was failing. "We go our separate ways. Never see each other again."

Ianto's eyes widened with a look of alarm. "Is that what you want?"

"No, Ianto," Jack said firmly, relieved that Ianto seemed to find the suggestion abhorrent, and feeling that small spark of hope strengthen. "That's not what I want. Not at all."

Ianto's expression cleared a little, but he was still looking at Jack anxiously "Right. So, option two?"

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "We go back to Cardiff. Return to Torchwood and resume our old lives."

"The familiar surroundings might help with getting our memories back," Ianto said slowly, looking contemplative. "But I don't think I want to go back. Too much has changed and I erased that entire part of my life. I wouldn't be going back to anything I knew. It's different for you though." He frowned. "Do you want to go back?"

Jack chuckled wryly. "My sense of self-preservation isn't what it once was. Knowing my luck, I'd probably get mauled to death by a Weevil on my first day back."

"Jack... don't." Ianto swallowed visibly, suddenly looking distressed. "I've seen images of you dying. In my dreams. Over and over again. I remember how I felt when you died. I was terrified every time that you wouldn't come back."

"Sorry," Jack murmured. He'd grown so used to treating his deaths with casual indifference, he'd forgotten what it was like for someone else. He supposed he just wasn't used to having someone who cared much about whether he lived or died. "But to answer your question, I don't think I want to go back either. I've worked for Torchwood for over a hundred years. Finally I've got a chance for a different kind of life. A normal, mortal life. Maybe that's selfish, but..."

"No, Jack," Ianto said insistently, shaking his head. "It's not. You deserve to have whatever life you want. You've done enough... given enough. More than enough."

Jack felt a rush of gratitude for the younger man. He realised he'd needed the reassurance that his life was finally his own, and Ianto had just given him that without the slightest hint of hesitation.

"We could take retcon again," Ianto said, looking thoughtful. "Just enough to wipe out these last few days. Go back to being James and Dylan... go some place where there's no chance of anyone knowing who we really are."

Jack looked at Ianto in surprise. It wasn't an option he'd considered, but he couldn't deny the appeal of going back to a state of blissful ignorance. "We could," he agreed tentatively. "If that's what you really want... I'd be willing to do that."

It was Ianto's turn to look surprised. "You would?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

Ianto stared at him with a speculative expression, but finally he shook his head. "No. It's tempting, but we know the truth now, and retcon's what got us into this. Besides, there would always be the chance we'd find out again. Then we'd be right back here."

"True," Jack agreed, feeling a twinge of disappointment, even though he knew it wasn't a wise option. But a part of him longed to go back to the way things were only days earlier. "No retcon, then."

"Jack, what's the third option?" Ianto asked.

Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and extracted the contents. "The third option is that we follow our dreams." He held out an envelope and smiled tremulously. "Here. Not Paris this time."

Ianto stared down at the envelope in Jack's hand. Finally he took it and opened it slowly, his eyes widening when he'd revealed the contents. "Two plane tickets to Rome," he said softly, looking up at Jack with obvious astonishment.

"The flight leaves the day after tomorrow." Jack shifted closer to Ianto and placed his hand on the Welshman's knee. "Ianto, we might never get our memories back, but the feelings are still there. When I look at you... when I touch you... kiss you... make love to you... when you roll your eyes at me... when I see that gorgeous smile of yours. It's all there. I don't need the memories of our years together at Torchwood to know how I feel, and none of it's the past tense for me. No one has known me the way you do, and when I'm with you I'm happy... happier than I've ever been."

He paused and looked at Ianto anxiously, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want to show you the world, Ianto... take you to every place you've ever wanted to see. I want us to have a home together somewhere. I know it won't be easy after everything that's happened, and I know I'm not an easy person to love. But I want us to build a life together. I'm kind of hoping you want that, too."

Ianto stared at him incredulously, slack-jawed and seemingly lost for words. "Do you really mean all of that?" he finally asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Every word," Jack said sincerely. "So... what do you think?"

Ianto looked down at the tickets again, then he looked back up at Jack. Slowly, a warm smile spread across his face and he put his hand over Jack's, intertwining their fingers together. "Okay," he said softly, squeezing Jack's hand.

"Okay?" Jack asked, holding his breath.

"Okay," Ianto repeated, more firmly, still smiling at him.

Jack stared dumbly at the younger man, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. A choked laugh bubbled up from deep inside him and burst free. He stared into the expressive blue eyes he knew so well, feeling a profound sense of peace wash over him, unlike anything he'd known before. For the first time in almost as long as he could remember, being in love didn't completely terrify him.

With a broad smile tugging at his lips, Jack took Ianto's face in his hands and kissed him fiercely, feeling a rush of excited anticipation for the life they were about to embark on together.**  
**


End file.
